


Clear All The Cobwebs

by DLanaDHZ



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Childhood Friends, Evil Uther Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Secret Crush, Someone does get stabbed but it's not graphically described
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ
Summary: Arthur and Merlin used to be inseparable, best friends of the closest kind, but a blackout on the eve of Arthur’s thirteenth birthday changed everything. That was the day Arthur had to make a choice between keeping his best friend close or keeping him safe from his father. Ten years later, Arthur has mastered the art of pretending Merlin isn’t special, but then he and Merlin end up working on their college’s centennial celebration together. Now Arthur’s just trying to hold everything together without looking like a fool or an asshole. Or both. Arthur is about to find out that far more people need protecting than just his neighbor and maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t have to keep his distance from Merlin after all.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 149
Collections: After Camlann Big Bang





	Clear All The Cobwebs

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my amazing artist from this year's ACBB - princesspendragon! Your art is beautiful! Thank you so much!
> 
> I know the formatting got messed up in some places. I'll fix it soon, but today was my day to post and I'm already out of time. I'm also at a family thing - but I'll get it fixed. The formatting shouldn't effect the readability though. I hope you enjoy!

July twenty-third. Eight fifteen pm. Arthur Pendragon chanced a glance out his window again. The window across from his was dark. A car had pulled up in front of the neighbor’s house, but it wasn’t the right one. It wasn’t hers. A pair of officers knocked on the neighbor’s door, and Arthur’s gut felt cold. Why were there cops at the door? He swallowed thickly and let the curtain fall shut.

Everything was fine, he told himself. But what if it wasn’t? He could go next door and find out. He could go and he could help. But what if he couldn’t? What could he do? He was only twelve. If something was wrong, could a twelve-year-old comfort someone the right way? He barely knew how to comb his own hair these days.

Ten minutes later, the patrol car’s engine kicked on and then disappeared into the distance. He pulled the curtain back again. The light in the neighbor’s living room was on, but everywhere else was dark. There was shouting, but it didn’t sound angry. He knew what angry shouting sounded like. No, this sounded… like crying.

A light turned on in the upstairs bedroom, directly across from his window. The curtains weren’t down in the neighbor’s room. He could see straight inside, and if anyone looked over, they’d see him in the window. He drew back, heart hammering.

Something was wrong. He should… He should help. Right?

Across the way, something heavy hit the ground. Nervous but curious, Arthur peeked back outside. He squinted at the other window. A wardrobe, and a heavy one at that, was on its side. Had the neighbor… pushed it over? But –

There was a flash of light inside the room, like lightning striking. He jerked back from the window. Lighting indoors? That was impossible! When he jerked the curtain open once more, the lightning was gone, but things were flying around the room – books, lamps, paper, games, toys. Someone was screaming, crying.

His chest hurt.

The neighbor stepped into view, tears streaming down their face. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath. _Merlin_. With a deep breath, Merlin gathered strength. Then he cried out – a long and terrible sound that ripped through Arthur, straight to his soul.

Every light bulb in the neighboring house blew. Two dozen feet away, safe in his own room, Arthur shouted in terror as his lamp bulb exploded and left his room in darkness. He huddled on the ground by the window, catching his breath from the shock. When he glanced back outside, he noticed the world seemed to be covered in shadow. Even the streetlights had gone out.

Everything was dark.

Until it wasn’t.

In the neighboring house, in Merlin’s room, a blue ball of light sparked into life and hovered there. Over the next two minutes, it continued to brighten until he could see Merlin’s face and body, and the fact that he wasn’t holding the light. The blue orb hovered a foot above his hand.

Magic.

Arthur pulled back from the window and pressed his back against the wall. Merlin was a witch. A sorcerer. He pressed his lips tight together and clutched at his shirt. What should he do? What _could_ he do? His neighbor was a sorcerer!

\--- --- ---

Arthur let out a quiet sigh as he sent off the last email. He’d volunteered to be on the committee to help manage the university’s centennial celebration, so really he’d asked for this, but sending emails out to every club and office on campus was the opposite of a good time. And if being on the committee didn’t look so damn good on his resume, he would have pushed this job off on somebody else, because this was his final year before he transferred to a college across the ocean for his Master’s Degree. He was getting away from his father’s house if it killed him, and this centennial committee was his ticket.

His degree, his grades, his extracurriculars, his father’s money all looked good to prospective colleges, but he needed something special. His father, thinking he was trying to impress a college only one town over, told him it was vital that he make himself seem like a leader, someone who took chances and made improvements and wasn’t afraid of a challenge.

And damn this committee was a challenge. He was basically doing the grunt work of the university professor and staff members who had the actual last word on this thing.

The Office of University Events was a small set of offices connected by a short hallway to a small reception room. The offices were used by professors, albeit ones who only taught one class a semester. Their main jobs were university related. There was a history professor whose main job was PR for the college, a science professor who handled outreach and planning for school events, and Mr. Monmouth. Whatever Mr. Monmouth did officially, Arthur might never know. For as long as he’d known Mr. Monmouth, the man’s only talent had been gathering gossip. He didn’t tell Arthur any of the gossip though. Oh no. He told Arthur’s father.

The reception area held the main desk, with its many baskets and organizers and a desktop computer, and a long wall-mounted desk on one side, where three more computer terminals were set up for student use. Anyone involved with university events was encouraged to use the computers, which were all linked to the same network and shared a save folder. This meant that you could continue your work no matter which terminal you sat at, and it also meant the professors could easily see if you weren’t using the terminals for the right reasons. Not that Arthur had ever saved anything less than professional on them, but he’d heard stories.

He’d been on the centennial committee for all of two days and he already felt like he was losing his life force to the office. Usually the desk was manned by a student workstudy, but it was also left vacant a good amount of the time. This meant Arthur was alone at the computer terminals, crafting emails or doing research, and slowly losing his mind.

“Why am I even here?” he asked the air, groaning and leaning back in his chair.

“The struggling life of the rich, I suppose,” a voice said behind him.

Arthur spun in his swivel chair, coming face-to-face with a lanky young man whose ears always looked a tad large, but it was mostly because of his haircut. This was Merlin Emrys, the assistant editor-in-chief of the university literary journal and also a member of the horticultural society. For a long while, they just stared at each other, and Arthur knit his brow trying to figure out why on earth Merlin Emrys was standing in the Office of University Events.

“Don’t look so upset, Arthur. I’m only here because I have to be,” Merlin said and held up his phone. The screen was too far away to read, but the layout looked exactly like the email Arthur had just been sending out.

Oh right. Merlin was the top student-body-member of the literary journal. He was the representative for university events.

Shit.

“Yeah, well, try not to get in the way,” Arthur said, pretending this wasn’t the worst possible scenario for him. “The journal’s part is mostly just covering what everyone else is doing and sending out informational packets, so you just have to observe.”

“Oh fuck you, Arthur,” Merlin said, almost under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Arthur pushed up from his chair so he could appear more imposing, but he’d forgotten that Merlin was an inch taller than him and not impressed.

“Look, I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died, but leave it at home, alright?” Merlin said with a growl. “I’m here to help with the centennial. You’re here to make scouts wet themselves, so just do your job so we can both get through this alive.”

Sneering, Arthur scoffed. “I’m not here for _scouts_ ,” he began, but he cut himself off and schooled his features when his faculty advisor appeared around the corner. “Mr. Monmouth.”

The man was older than time and moved at glacial speeds, so it was likely that he’d heard the entire argument, but he still asked, “Is everything alright over here, Mr. Pendragon?”

“Absolutely,” Arthur lied. Mr. Monmouth was not employed by the Pendragon family, but it seemed that anything Mr. Monmouth knew about Arthur at school ended up in the ear of Arthur’s father. The old man had been a professor back when Arthur’s father had gone to college, and Arthur had no idea what his father had done to win the man’s unwavering, intense loyalty, but he had.

Mr. Monmouth looked slowly to Merlin then and raised an eyebrow, asking for his opinion on the situation without ever opening his mouth. Shit. Arthur tried to send Merlin a look that told him to play it cool, but the idiot wasn’t even glancing in Arthur’s direction. He gave Mr. Monmouth an easy, calm look, probably because he had no idea that everything they said would end up in Arthur’s house. Shit.

“Everything is fine, Mr. Monmouth,” Merlin said. He shifted the position of his shoulder bag to be more comfortable. “I look forward to working on the centennial project with you.”

“Ah. And how do you know the young Mr. Pendragon?” Monmouth asked. Either he was going a little senile with that off topic question or he was looking for gossip to tell Arthur’s father. Either way, Arthur hated it.

Merlin glanced at Arthur, who probably looked partly like a startled cat but was trying to school his features. The dark haired man shrugged. “He’s my neighbor.”

“Oh. Fascinating.” Mr. Monmouth started walking away, but it had to be the slowest walk of any human being alive. “I’m sure that’ll come in handy for the centennial somehow. Now you boys play nice. I have a meeting to get to.”

Merlin slowly walked over to Arthur’s chair, but even after he reached the chair it took Mr. Monmouth another half a minute to get out of earshot. “I hope his meeting doesn’t start for another half an hour or he’ll never make it,” Merlin murmured conspiratorially.

The joke was so sudden and unexpected that Arthur actually barked out a laugh and had to cover his mouth to contain anymore unseemly laughter. For that split second, he’d felt like he was twelve all over again and nothing had changed between them. Merlin was smiling at him, and he was smiling back. Then he heard Mr. Monmouth cough loudly down the hall and Arthur reigned himself in.

With the loss of Arthur’s smile, Merlin’s fell away too and he sighed. “Listen. I don’t want to fight. We’re both here to help the school, right? So how about a truce?”

He held out his hand, but Arthur hesitated. He’d been avoiding Merlin for so long that he couldn’t bring himself to take the offered hand, even here – alone with no one to see. But that was a good thing, right? Monmouth wasn’t around. Neither was his father. And this was for the good of the school.

Arthur cleared his throat and slipped his hand into Merlin’s. “I think I can manage that, Merlin,” he said with a drawl on the name. “You just have to stop being a complete fool and we’ll be fine.”

Merlin sort of snorted. “Well, I suppose if you can stop being a prat for long enough, I can stop being a fool.”

They were still holding hands. A ball was growing in Arthur’s chest, the same one he always felt when he looked at Merlin for too long. There were a million things to say, to explain, but something was in the way. If Arthur took the time to explain, then the last ten years would be a waste of time. So instead he dropped Merlin’s hand and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged and forced himself to turn away, back to his computer. Merlin’s brow knit curiously. “You can use computer terminal three.”

Merlin moved to the terminal while Arthur pretended to prep another email. Everything would be fine. He could work with Merlin on the centennial project. It would be them and a dozen other club and organization members. And as long as Merlin didn’t get too close, nothing would go wrong. It was possible they could even become almost friends again.

An image of his father’s study at home came to Arthur then and he frowned at his computer screen. No. He couldn’t be friends with Merlin. It was dangerous to be friends with someone like him. He glanced over at Merlin, who was signing into his terminal, and found the other man looking back at him. They held each other’s gaze for only a second before they both quickly looked away.

No. Arthur would continue to keep his distance. It was dangerous to be friends with Merlin – with a sorcerer.

\--- --- ---

Planning and designing the centennial celebrations would be a long process, and the first event wouldn’t take place until the end of the semester, but it was worth it. The event was something intensely important to the alumni and staff of Camelot University, to the people of Albion City. Camelot had stood for a hundred years, a beacon of greatness, and Arthur was in charge of making sure the celebrations were properly awe inspiring.

No pressure.

To be fair, he had a small group to help divide the work and communicate with the clubs and organizations, but Arthur spent the most time in the office and compiling all the information. Arthur was in charge of submitting proposals and was the main liaison between the student committee and the faculty members. So it often still felt like he was doing a lot of it on his own.

Two weeks came and went between classes and centennial planning. Arthur’s worry about being near Merlin was proven pointless. They saw very little of each other. Most of their discussions were emails about planning, and they rarely were in the office at the same time. Merlin only had to come by to meet with faculty now, and most of the time Arthur was in class when he did.

Arthur wouldn’t admit to being disappointed about it. Anyway he was too busy to be spending his time thinking about his neighbor.

He was just finishing preparing a budget proposal – the first of many, he knew – when the office door opened and let in a surprise visitor. Morgana Lefay was not on the centennial committee. In fact, she had called the whole thing “a gaudy parade celebrating a heritage of ignorance.” So her appearance in the office was enough to sufficiently distract Arthur from his task.

“What on Earth are you doing here?” he asked, openly confused. The receptionist wasn’t in today, so Arthur was using the front desk to organize papers and input data into the computer for his proposal. That meant there was a large desk between him and Morgana, but she made it feel smaller.

Morgana strolled over, all elegance and beauty despite the torn jeans and a shirt that hung off one shoulder. Her socks didn’t match in her sneakers, but he’d bet her bra matched her shirt. She was weird like that. She leaned on the edge of his desk and gave a half shrug.

“Mom’s inviting you to dinner,” she said. “But I understand if your leash won’t let you go that far. I can make up another excuse for you, if you need me to.”

Irritation bristled under Arthur’s skin. His sister always knew how to get at him. “I’m not a dog, Morgana. And I don’t need an excuse.”

“Oh really?” She pushed her dark hair back behind her ear and raised a perfect eyebrow. “How’re you gonna explain to dear old dad that you’re going to visit us, then?”

Leaning back in his chair, Arthur crossed his arms. “I don’t need an excuse to visit you and your mom. He’s not going to stop me from going anywhere.”

She pressed her lips together in a tight smile to hold back a laugh. “You’re not going to tell him where you’re going, are you?”

She was so cocky when she knew she was right, but he couldn’t hold it against her. It was a family trait, after all. She may not look anything like Arthur or his father, but she had all the tenacity and stubbornness and pride of a Pendragon. Even if she’d changed her name, she still shared their blood.

The smile left her face a moment later when he didn’t immediately reply. Her pretty features pulled together in a strange sadness that was also part irritation. “Why don’t you leave that house, Arthur? I know you want to.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, and that surprised her. “But I can’t. Not yet.”

Groaning, she said, “Why not? And I swear if you say ‘family loyalty’, I’ll come over this desk and smack you. What has that tyrant ever really done for you besides bless you with his last name?”

“It’s not about that,” Arthur growled out, his irritation returning. “There’s just something I still have to do, and it’s really none of your business. You left, remember?”

He didn’t mean it to sound so accusing, but then again… yes he did. Morgana was older than him by a year. They’d always thought it was a stroke of luck that their mother had conceived so quickly, because they’d grown up so close and found in each other a best friend. But when Arthur was twelve, Morgana learned the truth. Their father had taken a lover when his wife failed to carry a child to term.

When Morgana was born, their father fought for parental rights. He claimed he could give Morgana a better life, and his money spoke volumes. Even after Arthur’s mother discovered she was pregnant again, his father kept fighting for Morgana. Arthur believed that was what finally broke his mother’s heart. And nine months later, Uther Pendragon found himself with two children… and no wife. Losing Igraine had also broken something within Uther, but Arthur didn’t know what it was. He’d never known his father before it broke, after all.

Uther raised the two children with the help of several nannies and no input from Vivienne Lefay. It was only when Morgana discovered the truth on her thirteenth birthday that either of them learned anything about their heritage. They were only half-siblings. Morgana took the news hard and never forgave their father for tearing her away from her mother and then abandoning Vivienne forever. She reconnected with the family she’d never known, and at sixteen, she changed her name and moved across the city to live as a Lefay.

Uther Pendragon had always been a hard father, but his scrutiny only became harder after he’d lost control over one child. Arthur had already been pretending to be perfect for most of his life, but it was still a heavy burden. He hated almost every waking moment of his charade, but his father was persistent and unyielding. Arthur had to be hardworking, excel in school, be a leader and trendsetter, follow orders, stay fit, and be heterosexual. Well, no one was perfect, but Arthur wasn’t about to tell his father.

So yeah, Arthur was a bit sour about being left alone in the house with a father who seemed to be slowly devolving into madness. But he hadn’t exactly meant for it to slip out here, at school.

Morgana’s face pinched together, and the siblings silently glowered at each other for what felt like a full five minutes but was likely only one. It was long enough that Arthur debated apologizing, but he didn’t feel like he’d done anything particularly wrong either. Luckily, he was saved from the predicament by someone opening the office door again. He and Morgana quickly schooled their expressions and faced the newcomer.

Well Arthur was having shit luck, because it was Merlin. Arthur’s face went steely, but Morgana’s brightened considerably.

“Merlin!” She beamed at him.

The dark haired sorcerer took a moment to realize who was saying his name, but then he smiled too. “Morgana. Didn’t think I’d see you here. You come to give Arthur a hard time? Maybe we can tag team him.”

Morgana laughed but shook her head. “Unfortunately, I was here on an errand for my mother. Say, Merlin, could I convince you to come visit us for dinner on Saturday? You haven’t seen the place in a few years, and I know Mom would love the company.”

Without missing a beat, Merlin agreed. “I’d love to come. Should I bring anything?”

Again she shook her head. “Just your bright attitude. It’ll lighten the mood once Arthur drags it down.” And she motioned lazily over her shoulder at her brother.

If Merlin could look anymore stunned by the realization that he’d be having dinner with Arthur present, well, he’d probably fall over. Arthur couldn’t blame him though, because he was looking slack jawed at his sister as though she’d just committed treason in front of him.

“So,” Morgana continued, obviously or willfully ignorant, “I’ll tell mom to set two extra places on Saturday. See you then, Arthur.” She crossed to Merlin and they embraced. “It was good to see you, Merlin. I know mom will be so excited when I tell her you’re coming. I’ll text you later.”

Then she was gone – hurricane Morgana, leaving wreckage in her path. Silence enveloped the room in her wake, and it took a very long time for Merlin to turn back around and face the desk. God, it was so awkward.

“You know, you don’t have to come,” Arthur found himself saying. Merlin frowned at him, but he continued. “I can’t back down at this point, but you could. Say your uncle needed you for something.”

Merlin’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck and he pursed his lips. “Nah. That’d never work.”

“Why not?” Arthur asked.

“Uncle Gaius would never back me up on it, and he knows Vivienne. If they ran into each other at the store, she’d find out in a heartbeat.” He dropped his hand and approached the desk.

That tight ball was forming in Arthur’s chest again and he took a deep breath to steady himself against the ache. He sat up straighter and tried to look more dignified and imposing, anything to hide his low anxiety. Pendragon’s did not give in to anxiety.

Merlin pulled a folder from his bag and set it on the desk, in a small bin labeled for incoming mail. His blue eyes found Arthur’s, a question and a challenge all at once. “I guess our truce will just have to hold up outside of school duties for one night. I sure hope Mr. Pendragon is up for such a daunting task.”

Indignation flared up within him and Arthur glared. “I think you’ll find Mr. Pendragon won’t be attending,” he said and took pleasure in the crack in Merlin’s self-control. For a quick moment, he looked like Arthur had just stolen the floor from under one of his feet. “Just his son, Arthur. And I can handle myself with more composure than you, I guarantee it.”

“You think?” Merlin asked, and he looked infuriatingly like Morgana with that raised eyebrow.

“Just wait. It’ll be like nothing’s wrong between us at all,” Arthur promised, bitterness in his voice. “So long as you keep your cool, Vivienne will never have to know we stopped speaking to each other.”

Now it was Merlin’s turn to narrow his eyes. He took a step back from Arthur then adjusted the strap of his bag. Honestly, Arthur couldn’t discern if the look was angry or just judgmental, but he was also too irritated to care. Morgana was taunting him and now Merlin was challenging him, and Arthur didn’t like being toyed with. He had a lifetime of experience pretending to be perfect, and one stupid dinner wasn’t going to break his streak.

“Well then. I’ll see you Saturday,” Merlin said, voice clipped.

“Yeah. You will.” In hindsight, he’d feel childish. In the present, he just felt victorious as Merlin walked quickly from the office.

It was one dinner. Arthur was practically raised to be perfect at fancy parties. This would be the easiest thing he’d done all month. Guaranteed. No matter what Morgana and Merlin’s raised eyebrows tried to suggest.

\--- --- ---

The Lefay home was two floors, like Arthur’s house, but somehow it felt smaller. Whereas the Pendragon home had bright white paneling on the outside, the Lefay home’s exterior was decorated with dark gray stones. The Pendragon’s had long, elegant drapes to cover intricate arched and bow windows, but the Lefay home had wooden shutters over basic, single hung windows. They had a small ten foot porch in the front, while the Pendragon’s had a full veranda.

Arthur knew the insides differed too. Uther Pendragon, his father, had a preference for grand interior design – arched ceilings, fancy crown molding, contemporary furniture, and smart technology throughout the house. Assuming the Lefay house hadn’t changed in four years, Arthur knew the interior would feature several antique decorations carved from dark wood, a well-loved modern sectional couch, at least one rocking chair, several hand-knit family heirlooms, and hardwood floors covered in intricate rugs.

He kind of loved those rugs. As he knocked on the door Saturday night, he hoped the rugs were still there. That was the pathetic glimmer of stability he clung too, when he really should have just relaxed like the Pendragon he was meant to be – take pride in his own charisma and skill and just know that he would get through this dinner without hindrance.

He’d never truly felt like a Pendragon – not the way his father expected, at least.

The door opened and he was welcomed in by Morgana’s expectant eyebrows. “You’re late,” she said simply, without ire.

“I’m ten minutes early,” Arthur countered, stepping inside. It was exactly as he remembered it – all dark wood and heirlooms. And it was warm in a way that suggested a fireplace was burning on a cold winter day – except it was mid-August and the fireplace was dark and barren. Arthur had never understood why this house always felt so… comfortable.

“You should have been here twenty minutes ago.” Morgana shut the door and started heading for the living room. “You know we like to talk before a meal. And before you blame your lack of visits, you should know Merlin remembered.”

Which was exactly why Arthur conveniently forgot, actually. He knew his sister, her family, and how their get togethers worked. There was always at least half an hour of conversation before they got down to business. Arthur had confidence that he could make it through dinner, but he wasn’t so sure he could make it through lengthy discussion with nothing to distract people.

Ms. Lefay was almost finished cooking when Arthur rounded the corner of the kitchen. She smiled warmly at him, as though he were her son too and not just the son of the man who’d cheated her. She’d always been like that, never holding Arthur’s parentage against him. He often wondered how long it had taken her to get here – to the point where she could smile at her enemy’s child. Of course, she never called Uther her enemy, but Morgana did often enough.

“Arthur, it’s been too long,” Vivienne greeted, pushing back a strand of her pale hair that had fallen from her ponytail. She always wore it like that when she cooked. “I’m so happy you could make it this time.”

She opened her arms and Arthur stepped into the hug. “I’m glad too,” he said. “I apologize for my schedule always being too hectic to allow me to visit.”

With a laugh, Vivienne pulled back and playfully smacked his shoulder. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Arthur. I know why you never visit, no matter what Morgana says. I understand, and I don’t need to be coddled about it. After all, it’s not your fault that your father holds onto grudges.”

Arthur laughed uncomfortably. While he agreed, it always felt wrong to back up people’s dislike of his father. Maybe there was still some family loyalty in him after all, even though he often felt two steps away from betraying his father just as Morgana had done. But Arthur had no other family to run away too, no other last name to adopt. He was a Pendragon forever, so he had to defend the title at least a little bit.

“You go sit down with the others. Dinner’s almost ready,” Vivienne said, turning back to her oven. It smelled amazing. Cheese and garlic and onion, for sure.

In the living room, Merlin was talking to Morgana’s sister, Morgause. They were sitting on the couch together, Merlin by the arm, and Morgana was neatly seated on a small beanbag cushion on his other side. It reminded Arthur of his first few times visiting, before Morgana had officially moved out and Uther forbade him from going anymore. It was like middle school all over again, except no one smiled when they saw him, and yeah that kind of hurt.

Where Morgana had inherited her father’s dark hair, Morgause had taken after their mother, with hair a radiant blonde. In the current company, Arthur looked more like Vivienne’s child than Morgana did. Somehow he’d managed to inherit his mother’s blonde hair too and thus looked nothing like his father. Well… thank goodness for small miracles, and all that.

When Arthur entered the room, Morgause cut herself off mid-sentence. Her fierce eyes met Arthur’s, and that was definitely a stare the whole family had mastered. The older woman let out a discouraging huff and rolled her shoulders back, trying to look more imperial or whatever.

“Well. It appears someone decided to grace us with his presence,” she said. She was five years older than Morgana, making her six years older than Arthur, but she acted as though she were old enough to be his mother. Needless to say, they’d never really gotten along.

“I got tied up in business, but I promised to make it in time for dinner. And I have.” Arthur took a seat in a chair despite there being open room on the couch the other two were on.

Silence took over the room. Arthur hadn’t meant to ruin the mood, and really he hadn’t done anything to warrant this reaction. Was he such a stranger now that they didn’t feel comfortable talking with him around? That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t like Arthur had stopped visiting because he didn’t like them. There were other elements at play.

“Well,” Merlin said, breaking the silence. He glanced between the three others, his eyes lingering on Arthur. “About your question – I think Arthur could answer it better.”

“Question?” Arthur frowned curiously.

Morgause sighed, like she’d rather ask anyone but Arthur, but she dutifully turned to him anyway. “I was asking about the centennial. Merlin says you’ve been stupidly shouldering the responsibility for everything –“

“I didn’t say it like that,” Merlin insisted, but she barely paused.

“So you’d know better than anyone, I suppose. Which alumni are being featured in the write ups? And how is progress on the centennial gala? You need a good performer, after all, not some DJ. I was hoping someone with talent in that area might be in charge, but I guess you’ll do.”

Trying not to let the comments irritate him too bad, Arthur gave a studious nod. “You’ll be happy to hear that I’m actually assigned a small centennial committee. I’m the head,” he explained.

“A big head,” Morgause murmured, pretending she wasn’t interrupting him.

Arthur continued, ignoring her. “I have a few others in charge of various departments, including coordinating the musical talent for the gala. Then under us are the club representatives.” He motioned to Merlin, who raised his hand halfway up, like he was being called upon in a class.

“Present,” he said, an exaggerated sigh accompanying the word. He couldn’t pretend for long though, and a tiny smile tugged his lips up after only a few seconds. His eyes glanced quickly to Arthur before turning to Morgana instead.

Arthur couldn’t pretend the smile hadn’t pleased him, but he tamped down on his own smile as quickly as Merlin had looked away. God, they’d barely been around each other these last few weeks, even less in the last ten years, and yet every stolen glance or grumbled word had Arthur feeling like he was twelve-years-old all over again. How was he supposed to continue his lies if he and Merlin couldn’t act like the adults they were?

“Well then,” Morgause said, considering. She placed her manicured fingers on her knee. “So who is in charge of the music? I could direct my suggestions to them instead.”

Arthur’s brow knit. “A guy named Dulac. But, hang on. Morgause, you don’t even go to Camelot. You’ve _never_ gone there.”

“But my sister does. I’m merely speaking as a concerned citizen.” She tilted her head, her hair falling gracefully behind her shoulder. “As the head of the centennial committee, I trust you want what’s best for Camelot. My sister keeps claiming you’re smarter than your father. I’d like to give you the opportunity to prove it.”

Okay. Arthur could only take so many jabs. He opened his mouth to retort, to argue, but Vivienne chose that moment to appear and call them all to dinner. Truly an angel in disguise. They all filed into the dining room and took seats around the large table. Arthur let the others choose seats first, still feeling a bit like he was intruding on a family dinner. After taking her own seat, Morgana gave him a pointed look and motioned for him to sit beside her. Only after sitting did Arthur realize it put him right across from Merlin.

Morgana couldn’t possibly know how terrible this seating position was. No way would she be torturing him on purpose. Arthur told his sister a lot – not everything, but most things. She had a way of drawing the truth from him, of helping him make decisions he would otherwise be too nervous or dense to make. But she couldn’t possibly know how much Arthur did not want to be sitting there, with nowhere to look but at Merlin.

Merlin’s dark hair was short, shorter than he used to wear it as a kid but still somehow cute. His ears looked pale and soft in contrast. The pale skin continued over his cheek and down his throat, and his bone structure stood out gorgeously under the warm dining room lighting. Arthur swallowed thickly, forcing himself to look down at his plate instead.

Ten years. Ten years, and this feeling was still so strong. Arthur glanced at his sister, who was not looking at him but somehow managed to still look smug about something. There was no way he had ever let it slip, but maybe she had somehow read him anyway. Somehow she knew about Arthur’s feelings for Merlin. It was impossible, and yet –

Vivienne set down the casserole dish in the middle of the table along with two large side dishes. The food was passed around until everyone had some, and Arthur made a point of thanking Vivienne again for cooking. Light chatter sprang up involving a lot of basic niceties and small talk, and normally Arthur hated small talk but because he hadn’t seen these people in so long it felt less like small talk and more like genuine catching up.

“Merlin,” Vivienne said near the end of the meal. “You really should visit more often. I only hear about you from your uncle. How is he?”

“Good.” Merlin speared the last of his vegetables as he smiled. “Healthy as can be, actually.”

“Good. Good.” Vivienne nodded and offered the side dishes again but everyone politely declined. “He’s such a warm hearted man – raising you on his own, training you –“

“ _Mom_ ,” Morgana groaned, giving her mother a look that could only be code for ‘stop talking immediately’.

Vivienne waved her off carelessly. “I’m simply saying that I wish you’d let me see you more. I don’t think we’ve spent this much time in the same space since your mother’s funeral.”

A tense hush fell over the room – or was it just Arthur who thought it was tense? Vivienne spoke of Merlin’s mother so casually, like her death was no different than any other formal gathering. In fairness, the funeral was ten years ago, so did they really have to keep walking on eggshells about it? It had to be Arthur alone who tensed up. He was the only one living in the past.

Across from him, Merlin smiled tightly. “I’m sorry. It was a, um, tough time for me back then,” he said, and Arthur didn’t miss the way his blue eyes flickered over to Arthur as he said it.

Merlin’s mother had died, and in the same week, Arthur had begun ignoring him. It had been the hardest thing Arthur had ever done. But it was not without reason. He wished he could explain himself, but it had been ten years. Did it even matter anymore?

“The death of a family member is always difficult,” Morgause agreed, probably referencing her father’s death. Arthur was barely paying her any attention. “Especially when your support system decides to vanish on you.”

Okay, scratch that. Arthur was listening. He turned in his seat to glower at the other blonde. “Are you implying something?” he asked, short and sour.

Morgause did not seem bothered by his anger. “Are you feeling guilty, little Pendragon?”

“You all know my dad went on a spiral at the same time. I couldn’t just leave him,” Arthur argued, turning completely sideways.

“Of course you could have,” Morgause said with a little sneer. “Let the bastard rot in his tiny palace. Alone.”

A hand came down on the table, making all the cutlery and glass ring. All eyes turned to Vivienne, who had both hands down on the tablecloth. Her eyes were closed and she took a careful, deep breath. As she let it out, her eyes opened and fixed on her eldest daughter with disappointment.

“Morgause, apologize,” she ordered calmly. When Morgause didn’t immediately speak, Vivienne continued. “Arthur showed great loyalty by staying and tending to his father. I would hope that one of my children would do the same if I had a breakdown. It’s unkind to treat Arthur this way simply because you don’t agree with his father’s choices. Apologize.”

All the eyes tentatively shifted to look at Morgause instead. The eldest daughter rolled her shoulders back, straightened her spine, and turned her calculating eyes on Arthur. For a long moment, Arthur thought they would be trapped in this horrible staring contest forever, but then she let out a long, quiet breath.

“Please excuse me, Arthur. I was wrong,” she said. She pushed back from the table and stood, reaching to take empty plates and stack them on her own. “I’m going to start on the dishes.”

Vivienne tried to assure her it was fine, but Morgause would not be stopped. She’d found her way out of the conversation, and Arthur recognized a good retreat. He wasn’t going to get in her way, so he just wordlessly handed over his dishes as she moved around the table. Her mother followed after her, determined to do some of it herself.

With a sigh, Morgana pushed back as well. “I better go make sure they don’t break anything trying to out clean each other. I’ll be right back.”

Again Arthur found himself alone with Merlin. It wasn’t getting any easier to face him, but something was bothering Arthur now. Morgause’s attack on Arthur for taking away Merlin’s support system had stung. Even though Merlin hadn’t made any comments, Arthur knew the dark haired man probably agreed with Morgause.

Arthur drummed his fingers once on the table before he clasped his hands to stop himself. Merlin kept his eyes on the kitchen doorway, listening to the sounds of the ladies arguing over who got to scrub and who got to dry.

God, he was beautiful.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, a little too soft, to gain the other’s attention back.

“Hm?” Half attention.

“I never meant to abandon you,” Arthur admitted. “I… had some things going on too. With my father. It was bad timing. But I thought you had plenty of people to support you.”

Merlin nodded absentmindedly. “It’s fine, Arthur.” Finally he looked over, meeting Arthur’s eyes. “Anyway, you’re right. It’s always your father’s fault, isn’t it?”

The acceptance didn’t sound genuine. It sounded hollow. And the accusation afterward stings just as much as Morgause’s words had. Arthur deserved it. He’d left Merlin high and dry right when Merlin had needed his friendship the most. It had been cruel, and Arthur didn’t know how to explain himself. He couldn’t exactly come out with the truth – that he’d been terrified.

Hunith had died in a car accident. That night Arthur had watched Merlin overload every electronic within a mile. When morning came, his father had been near lunacy – worse than Arthur had ever seen him. It was all just… bad timing. And Arthur didn’t know how to fix it.

No. Arthur couldn’t fix it even if he wanted to. He’d chosen this slow heartache ten years ago with a goal in mind, and he couldn’t waste it just because he wanted Merlin’s forgiveness.

\--- --- ---

The Pendragon house was dark when Arthur closed the door behind him. He turned the lock and the deadbolt and the second deadbolt before dropping his bag on the floor by the nearby shoe rack. He’d survived dinner, but just barely. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. He should have known someone would bring up something stupid from ten years ago.

The light above him came on and he quickly schooled his expression as his father stepped into the entryway. Uther Pendragon was a large, imposing man with dark gray hair and a stern nose. When he truly smiled, his eyes lit up with real joy, but unfortunately smiling had become a phantom of the past for him. When he saw Arthur, he did smile, but it was small and barely made his cheeks twitch.

“How did the study session go?” he asked.

Arthur nodded. “Gwaine may actually pass calculus at this rate,” he lied smoothly. He’d have to warn Gwaine about the cover story before he went to bed. Really he should have warned him hours ago, but it hadn’t seemed very pressing while Arthur had gotten ready for dinner.

His father’s eyes crinkled a little with disappointment. “That young man better be grateful for all your hard work, especially since he made you eat pizza.”

Brow knitting, Arthur asked, “What?”

“I called your friend earlier, just to see if you’d be eating out or if I should have something waiting for you when you arrived home. He told me that he’d ordered pizza without asking you. You were in the bathroom at the time.” He frowned more. “No surprise. You know how greasy foods like that always make you sick. Honestly, Arthur, you should have just told him no.”

Arthur let out a long ‘ah’. He really should have warned Gwaine ahead of time, but at least it seemed his friend hadn’t thrown him under the bus. “It was fine, actually. It didn’t last long, and I feel great now.”

Uther hummed. “Strange that he didn’t tell you I’d called,” he mused.

“Nah. You know how Gwaine gets. He was back working on problems when I got out of the bathroom. It probably just slipped his mind.” Arthur motioned toward the hall his father had come out of and starting walking. He felt like he was on trial by standing next to the front door. He was going to have to pay Gwaine back big time, probably with pizza.

Uther followed him, acquiescing. “You must be tired, so I won’t talk long, but before you head upstairs I have something to give you. Come. It’s in my office.”

He stepped quickly around Arthur and led the way to his office, a bit too excited for a man in his fifties at nearly ten at night. Arthur did not rush to follow him, instead taking a meandering pace to get into the room. He always felt small in the office, and he still felt that way at twenty-three years old. Standing in front of his father’s desk, he looked around while his father dug around in a drawer for whatever he was gifting to Arthur.

The walls were peppered with newspaper clippings and articles from both reputable and less than reputable sources. Stories of ‘real life’ witches and magical creatures stared out from the pages. Books on the opposite wall told the history of witch hunts, such as in Salem, and detailed explorations into strange modern phenomenon. A poster beside a bookshelf detailed common tells that sorcerers couldn’t help revealing. Multiple tools were displayed in cases and on tables, some of which even Arthur didn’t know the purpose for, but some that he knew were used in the finding and apprehension of magic users.

There were iron bangles that could drain someone’s magical power. There was a necklace that could sap their energy away, eventually killing them if left on for too long. One iron ring in the left display case claimed to have the ability to burn the skin of any magic user, and Arthur hoped it never got used for the rest of time. That wasn’t ‘apprehension’. That was torture.

Some people obsessed about mermaids or the loch ness monster. Uther Pendragon obsessed about sorcerers. It would have been embarrassing, except Uther didn’t make it public knowledge. As far as Arthur was aware, the only ones who had any idea about his father’s obsession were the Lefay family, himself, and perhaps Gaius. If Gaius knew, then it was likely Merlin knew too, but Arthur couldn’t be sure.

Finally his father pulled out a red stone fit into place on a short silver chain. “This,” he said with awe in his tone. “This bracelet is enchanted. When around a sorcerer, the stone glows red. I want you to wear it when you leave the house. Don’t give me that look, Arthur. You see a more diverse populous than I do on a regular day. It must be you. And as soon as you find a sorcerer, you tell me about it.”

As he spoke, he took Arthur’s wrist and clasped the chain around it. The sound of the clasp closing sounded wrong, but that was probably the gross feeling in Arthur’s mouth. It would glow around anyone with magic. Arthur was going to be sick.

“Why?” he asked, and it wasn’t a question he asked lightly. The last time he’d questioned his father’s obsession had been several years ago and it had ended with Arthur trapped in his room for a week, only allowed out for the bathroom. “Why do you want to find a sorcerer? What will it prove?”

“You know the blackout ten years ago was no accident, Arthur,” his father said coldly, disappointment lacing each word at the idea that his son had forgotten. “Blackouts don’t shatter bulbs. No, there is a sorcerer in Albion. They are powerful and dangerous and must be stopped.”

“Nothing has happened since the blackout,” Arthur remarked, eyes glancing between the plain red gem on his wrist and his father’s stern face. “Even if it was a sorcerer, isn’t that a reason to reconsider? They’ve done nothing wrong since –“

“Nothing wrong? You forget yourself, Arthur.” Uther shook his head and then ran his fingers over his forehead. “Your mother was taken from us by magic. Your uncle before that.”

Arthur bit hit tongue. Heartbreak had taken his mother. His father’s disillusionment with marriage had taken his mother. Not magic. As for his uncle, it was a car accident officially, back when Uther was still a teenager. Magic had been involved, yes, but that sorcerer had been arrested for non-magical tampering with a vehicle and was still in prison. Non-magical officers. A Non-magical jail. No magic had gotten him released.

“So everyone with magic is to be held accountable?” He dropped his hand, frowning as hard as his father. “Most people don’t even know magic still exists, and you want to lead a witch hunt? Do you know what people will say when they find out about this obsession of yours?”

“Damn it, Arthur, that’s enough!” Uther shouted suddenly and made Arthur nearly swallow his tongue. “Of all people, I expected you to stand by my side. You’ve seen what magic can do! You know how real this is! If a witch hunt is necessary, then it is a witch hunt I will carry out. Magic cannot be trusted! It must be eliminated.”

A chill ran through Arthur’s chest. He’d known ever since he was a kid that his father’s obsession with magic could not be countered. His father had shown Arthur so many proofs of magic, so many terrible things but also harmless and innocent things, and he hated them all with a passion that Arthur barely understood. He’d tried before to reason with his father’s ravings many times, and every time had been a failure. It was still a shock every time.

“I understand,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry.”

His father sighed, low and long. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. I’ve asked you to play a very active role in this fight. It’s a big responsibility, and I shouldn’t have sprung it on you. It’s just hard to know who you can trust.”

“You can trust _me_ ,” Arthur assured. As crazy as his father could be at times, as rough and harsh, he was still Arthur’s father. Arthur didn’t want to disappoint him.

Uther placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a tiny smile. “I do. I know you’ll make me proud.”

After adding that stress to Arthur’s load, Arthur and his father parted ways. Not for the first time, Arthur wondered how he could simultaneously crave his father’s approval and be disgusted with his morals and methods. He wondered at the dichotomy as he unhooked the bracelet and settled it on his bedside table.

Arthur had spent the last ten years actively thwarting his father’s search for the neighborhood sorcerer. Yet here he was, telling his father he’d wear this bracelet and find him a sorcerer. Did that make Arthur a hypocrite?

He walked to the window and pulled aside the curtains. Merlin’s window was a short distance away, a few hundred feet at most, but the blinds were down and the lights were off. Of course they were off. It was late and they both had classes in the morning.

Sighing, Arthur sank to sit on the window ledge. He could remember sitting here for hours, talking to Merlin even when he was grounded or not allowed outside. Curious, Arthur bent over and opened the small storage box set by the window. Sitting on top of everything else, as if no time had passed, was a sketchbook. Arthur was no artist, but that wasn’t the purpose of the book.

He lifted it out and replaced the box’s lid. This book had been so important to his childhood. Carefully he opened it and began flipping through the pages. Large, blocky letters covered several pages – his half of a conversation. Answers with no questions, questions with no answers, talks with no endings. They would write the words on paper and hold them up in the window to talk long past curfews or to leave notes for the morning.

It had been a long time since Arthur had seen Merlin leave him a message. The last one had almost made Arthur’s resolve crumble. Merlin’s mother had died and Arthur had witnessed Merlin’s magic from the safety of his room. At the funeral, Arthur watched his father’s judgmental eyes scan the room like a hungry lion. Uther Pendragon had been in a room of mourning friends and family and yet his mind had been focused on the wrong thing. All at once Arthur had known what he had to do.

He couldn’t let Merlin near his father. He couldn’t let his father’s attention ever focus on the family next door. He couldn’t be friends with Merlin anymore. Not if he wanted to keep him safe.

It had taken all the strength in Arthur to ignore the phone calls, to ignore the messages in the window, to not look up with a smile when Merlin called his name at school. And when Merlin tried to come over to see him, when his father had been suspiciously eyeing the boy Arthur had once been so attached to, Arthur had shoved Merlin back down the sidewalk and told him never to come over again.

That night, Merlin left his last note in the window. Arthur remembered it vividly. It just said, “Why?”

Looking down at his own sketchbook, Arthur saw his answer. He’d never put it in the window, but it had been close. In his own, twelve-year-old handwriting were the large words, “It’s Not Safe”. Merlin might have understood, but he also probably would have opposed the idea. He would have tried to talk Arthur out of his plan, would have been reckless in front of his father. He’d always been saying stupid shit about staying by Arthur’s side forever. As wonderful as the thought had been, Arthur knew there was no safety there. The only way Arthur could ensure, forever, that his father didn’t suspect Merlin of being a sorcerer was to distance himself and to throw off all possible evidence from inside the enemy camp.

He took out his marker from the hook on the side of the sketchbook and uncapped it. He wrote without thinking.

“I’m Sorry.”

He frowned and flipped the page. Not good enough.

“I Know About Your Gift”

No. No. No. It was all wrong. He flipped the page again.

“I Wanted You Safe.”

He flipped the page. It was an excuse. It wasn’t good enough. He’d been ignoring Merlin for ten years, pretending their childhood had meant nothing to him. But it had meant everything to him. Merlin’s mother had been like his mother. Merlin’s uncle had been like his uncle, sometimes more of a father than his own. Merlin had been more than a friend, more than a brother.

“I Love You”

It was the truth, but it was too late for feelings like that. Merlin was like a stranger now. Arthur still knew Merlin, albeit from the point of view of an outsider, but Merlin had long ago given up on him. He could tell. And Arthur didn’t blame him. He’d made sure to break everything they’d ever had.

With a huff of frustration, he flipped the book shut and threw it back into the storage box. This was stupid. He glanced back out the window, where the curtain was still drawn back and the moon was filtering in. For a moment he thought he saw Merlin’s blinds moving, but it was too far and too dark to be sure. The lights were still off.

He sighed and pushed his hair back. “This was the only way,” he murmured into the silence.

Merlin window stayed still and dark. Shaking his head, Arthur pushed off the ledge and shut off his bedroom light. He dropped the curtain on his way to his bed, then he let himself sink into his plush comforter and tried not to think of anything at all. It didn’t work.

\--- --- ---

In the morning, Arthur checked out the window just in case, but of course there was no note taped up in Merlin’s window. He tried not to feel bad about it, but seeing Merlin and talking with him the night before made Arthur feel like the old wound of their relationship had been torn open slightly. But that was one sided. Merlin hadn’t seemed any warmer toward him at the end of the night, and there was no evidence he’d waxed poetic over their old routines like Arthur had once getting home.

Frustrated with himself, Arthur got dressed quickly and headed downstairs. He had to leave soon for school, but there was enough time for breakfast with his father. If there wasn’t, he’d get another disappointed look aimed at him.

“You have the bracelet?” his father asked him over eggs and bacon.

“Yes, sir,” Arthur confirmed. He’d stashed it in his backpack, fully intent on never pulling it out. He didn’t know if it worked, but he wasn’t about to find out.

“I don’t see you wearing it,” his father said, motioning to Arthur’s two bare wrists. “You should put it on before you leave the house, so you don’t forget.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes… Sir.” He dug into his bag and slipped the bracelet on in front of Uther’s watchful gaze and then held it up as proof until his father nodded in acceptance.

Arthur could just take it off on the way to school. Wait. It was possible Mr. Monmouth would be on the lookout for it in the office. Would he report to Uther if he noticed Arthur without his new jewelry? Arthur could just slip it back on whenever he went to work on the centennial projects, but what if he forgot? What if Mr. Monmouth saw him around campus beforehand? Damn it. Arthur was actually going to have to wear the thing around school.

He glared down at the bracelet as soon as he was out of the house. It was garish against his skin, obviously antique and with an oversized stone. If anyone saw it, he’d have a hard time explaining it beyond ‘my father made me wear it’, which sounded unbearably childish. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he pulled a light jacket from his pack and slipped it on. The sleeves would hide the bracelet, he hoped, and hopefully not make him sweat to death at the same time.

As he swung his arm out to put it on, he bumped into someone and nearly knocked them over.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, pulling back.

“You seem to be saying that a lot,” Merlin grumbled, rubbing his bicep where Arthur had run into him.

It was Merlin. Arthur’s stomach did embarrassing twists. He swallowed his emotions quickly.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, trying to sound suddenly bothered. “Watch where you’re going, Merlin. You could hurt someone.”

“Whatever.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Excuse me, your great majesty, but do you think you could share the sidewalk with a peon like me? Some of us are trying to get to school and don’t have fancy cars to drive us there.”

“I could give you a ride.” The words slipped out before Arthur had a chance to doubt them. Part of him wished he could suck them back in, but the other part was paralyzed by the wonder on Merlin’s face as the offer settled between them.

Ten years of avoidance and ignorance. One measly dinner and all of that was nothing. Arthur was offering rides?! He could practically feel his father’s eyes on them, but when he glanced back at the house he didn’t see his father in any of the windows.

“Uh, sure,” Merlin agreed cautiously. “You mean it?”

Arthur snorted. “I’m insulted that you doubt my honor. Didn’t you just call me ‘majesty’?” He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. “Get in the car.”

His car was a red convertible that he parked on the side of the road because the garage was taken up by his father’s two cars and various yard equipment. They slipped into their seats like this wasn’t awkward, and Arthur started the car. With one last glance back at his house to ensure his father truly wasn’t looking, Arthur pulled away from the curb. When they had left the street entirely, he lowered the roof.

Merlin looked startled at first, and Arthur laughed. They exchanged no words, just playful glaring and then small, unsure smiles. Were they allowed to be pleasant with each other? Arthur wanted to be, but being pleasant could lead to renewed friendship, to hanging out, to… well he didn’t hope for more than that. It was too dangerous. But he could enjoy the look of Merlin, wind rushing through his hair, for the moment at least.

He pulled into his parking spot on campus and closed the roof once again. Merlin checked his watch while he waited for Arthur to finish, but Arthur knew he’d gotten Merlin here at least ten minutes earlier than the bus would have. Still, Merlin acted like he was running late. He was out of the car as soon as the roof was secured.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said quickly and then hurried away before Arthur could do more than part his lips to reply. In two seconds, he was too far away to hear Arthur.

“Yeah, any time,” Arthur muttered anyway and then gently tapped his fist against his forehead. What the hell was he doing?!

His jacket sleeve shifted and revealed his new bracelet and he pursed his lips. Had it been glowing under his sleeve? He hadn’t noticed it. Maybe it didn’t even work. Well that was one positive for the morning.

\--- --- ---

“You’ll have all the space from the far wall to the pillars,” Arthur said, pointing to the areas as he named them. “Remember to account for the curve of the space, because you can’t block the breezeways.”

The students in front of him nodded and then turned around with tape measurers and calculators in hand. This was the theatre department. Although many clubs would be using the space in the Student Union Center during the centennial celebrations, the theatre department was in charge of mapping out the space, building the temporary stage that would house each club during their allotted time, and then tearing it down at the end. Arthur was in charge of monitoring their progress and answering questions. All very exciting stuff.

Suddenly an arm wrapped around him from behind, pulling him tight against someone’s chest. “Ey,” a rough voice greeted and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Gwaine, now is not the time. I’m working,” Arthur pointed out and broke easily from his friend’s hold.

Gwaine Ragnell was a strong, boisterous, and very rugged young man. His facial hair had its own fan group on the school gossip page, and a good many students had wept when he’d cut his hair short over the break between spring and summer semester. He was charismatic and energetic, and he had the benefit of having no expectations put upon him so he had no one to really disappoint. His mother was just happy he’d decided to go to college at all instead of drink and party his life away in her living room.

“Yeah but yer always workin’ these days,” Gwaine complained. He gave a tired shrug. “What’s a guy gotta do for some bro time?”

“Bro time?” Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Gwaine and Arthur time,” the other man clarified as though it were obvious. “Video game time. Night club time. I can’t jus go out to a club by myself. I need my wingman. Gods know you never pick up anybody, though no one knows why the fuck not. But yer there for me, yeah? I need you. I miss you.” He leaned forward into Arthur’s space and wiggled his eyebrows. “I love you, man.”

Arthur snorted. “Save it for the next cute person you meet at the club.” Then he remembered and he put a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. “Thanks for covering for me yesterday, by the way.”

“Of course.” Gwaine shrugged again and smiled. “But come on. What were ya really up to last night then?”

“Nothing you’re thinking,” Arthur assured. One of the theater members brought him their measurements and he nodded his thanks. When they had returned to helping their teammates, Arthur looked back at Gwaine, who looked eager for gossip. “I was just visiting Morgana and her family. Hardly scandalous.”

And Gwaine did deflate. He frowned with disappointment. “That’s it?” He sighed in response to Arthur’s solemn nodding. “Fine then. Nothin’ fun. But then why lie to yer dad about it?”

“My father blames Ms. Vivienne for ‘stealing’ Morgana from us,” Arthur explained. Uther also blamed her for ruining his marriage, but that was entirely his father’s fault. And also magic’s fault? Sometimes even Arthur got confused about who he was supposed to blame.

“Arthur, yer the only man I know who refers to his dad as ‘my father’. Ya sure yer not from some mega rich family with intense internal issues?” Gwaine smirked.

“Har har,” Arthur said, but then they were both grinning and then laughing.

Gwaine had been Arthur’s good friend for a few years. They’d met in college, but not in classes. Gwaine, despite his lackadaisical approach to life, did in fact come from money, and so his family and Arthur’s ran in similar circles. Gwaine’s mother’s family was well off, at least, and Gwaine had once been destined for greatness. His father died when he was about to finish middle school, and the family had since pretended Gwaine and his mother didn’t exist. They’d never approved of the relationship. If the law had allowed it, they would have taken all the money too, but thank God for marriage laws. Gwaine became disillusioned with wealth and prestige and life in general after that. He’d gotten better, he said, but he still had a bit of a drinking problem.

Regardless, he and Arthur had been fast friends despite their differences. Arthur respected him immensely and knew he could always count on him, just like last night.

“Feel free ta use me as an excuse again,” Gwaine said, taking a few steps backwards. “Just shoot me a text.”

“Thanks.”

Gwaine clapped his hands together as though a thought had just struck him. “Oh and text me when yer next day off is. I wasn’t kidding about us hangin’ out.”

Arthur laughed a little. “Sure thing.”

Maybe that’s what he needed after all – just some ordinary hang out time with his best friend. Merlin’s presence was probably only getting to him because he was so stressed out. He needed to calm down.

\--- --- ---

The good part about working on the centennial was getting to order people around instead of being ordered around himself. Arthur was in charge of all the student representatives. He delegated all the tasks needed to set up the event.

His team consisted of Guinevere Thomson, a quiet but passionate young woman who was majoring in business and planned to help her father turn their mom-and-pop metalwork business into a nationally recognized brand; Lancelot Dulac, a living, breathing, actually knightly young man who spoke so courteously to Guinevere that Arthur thought their first meeting would never get anywhere, and who was soon to graduate from the college of arts and humanities; and Leon Young, the oldest of the whole committee, who seemed studious and steadfast and was full of practical ideas.

After two meetings, they had come up with several ideas for centennial events. Not all would come to fruition, but it was a start. So far they planned for each club and organization to have a week to set up in and around the student center to promote themselves, but they had to feature the theme of centennial. There would be a parade through the town on the actual day of the centennial, again featuring any club willing to make and staff a float or walking group. There would be a memorial dedication, but the specifics were up for debate. The art department would eventually build the memorial, but all plans had to be approved by the faculty.

Merlin – no, the journalism department. They were in charge of writing feature articles for the school newsletter which would be printed in the local newspaper. They were also in charge of the promotional material, though they worked with the art department on design.

All the events would take place over the course of the next semester. And to start everything off with a bang? A centennial gala, of course.

“Lancelot, have you had any chance to work on a musical act for the centennial gala?” Arthur asked.

“I have a few in mind. There’s an alternative rock band that formed here in Albion. They’re called Renegade Druid. Have you heard of them?” he asked.

Surprisingly, Arthur had. His father would have died to know Arthur was listening to a band whose name suggested magic, but Arthur didn’t often listen to music where his father could hear it.

“Do you have the contact information for them? I wasn’t aware they were still local,” he pointed out. Renegade Druid had gotten popular and last Arthur had heard, they were on a national tour.

Lancelot nodded, but then he ducked his head a little shyly. “I actually have the phone number of one of the founding members. Our parents are friends. It feels a little like cheating, but –”  
  


“Lancelot, that’s a good thing. That’s great news. I’m not going to question our good luck. See if they’d be interested.” Arthur consulted his timeline and calendar on the papers in front of him. “If I remember correctly, they’ll be on tour for awhile still, but they’ll be back before the gala. It should fit their schedule, if they’ll have us.”

Lancelet, Gwen, and Leon all gave him slightly surprised expressions, probably because of his knowledge of a local band’s tour schedule. Arthur cleared his throat to dismiss the reactions and motioned to a paper they all had in front of them.

“So I need Lancelot to get in touch with Renegade Druid, see if we can get something more concrete for the gala. Guinevere, I need an official route for the parade. Get in contact with businesses along the route, see if they want to be promoted, host specials, anything they can think of to be part of the event. We don’t want to deprive them of too much business because the roads are shut down for the floats. And Leon, we need to start working on the memorial as soon as possible. Can you get in contact with the art department and act as a liaison between them and the faculty in deciding on a final idea by the end of next week?”

“Of course, Arthur,” Leon said with a nod. He made a quick note on his paper before slipping it into his bag for later use.

“And what are you going to work on?” Guinevere asked, not unkindly. It wasn’t an accusation.

“I need to make sure we’ve got a good line up of alumni for the Alumni Spotlight feature profiles,” Arthur answered. “I have a couple of phone calls to make.”

There were several people he had in mind for the newspaper to cover, including his own father, and he needed to make calls and send out emails as soon as possible. The meeting ended shortly after that and the others dispersed to return to their regular courses or head home for the day. Arthur hung back, checking figures and making his list of phone calls. He couldn’t submit a new budget until he knew what Renegade Druid might charge to participate or if any of the Alumni Spotlight guests would want compensation – or even a free lunch, which was customary.

He was just packing up and shutting down his computer when the door opened to the office.

“I’m afraid all the faculty have gone home for the day,” he called out as he bent to lift his bag from the floor.

“And they left you here to do all the work?”

Arthur’s chest heaved, but it was covered by the fact that he was mid-movement to stand up. It was Merlin standing at the desk. Clearly Arthur didn’t cover his expression fast enough, because Merlin’s expression turned soft and then teasing.

“Sounds like they’re slacking off. You should punish them.” And he nodded sagely, like this was the most serious and wise of counsels.

“And, uh, what punishment do you think fits the crime?” Arthur asked, slowly pulling his messenger bag over his head to rest across his shoulders.

“Clearly the only appropriate sentencing is the stocks,” Merlin said, turning an envelope over and over between his hands.

Arthur snorted and held out his hand for the parcel. “Alright, I’ll have them sentenced in the morning. Now what have you brought me?”

There may have been a bit of disappointment on Merlin’s face, or that may have been Arthur projecting his own feelings. He hadn’t meant to cut their joking short, but it was habit to rely on his responsibilities and work when he was nervous.

Merlin handed over the envelope, and as Arthur pulled it away he saw a glint of red. His heart nearly stopped and he ripped his hand back as panic raced through him, clamping his hand down on his long sleeves. If Merlin noticed the glow on Arthur’s wrist, he didn’t say so. His brow knit and he looked at Arthur with suspicious confusion.

“O-kay?” he asked slowly. “It’s just a proposed list of articles. The faculty needs to approve the content.”

“Right.” Arthur squeezed his wrist.

The bracelet worked. For the first time since putting it on, the stone was glowing. It was glowing around _Merlin_. Because of course it was. Arthur knew Merlin had magic, was a sorcerer. If the bracelet worked, then of course it would glow around Merlin. But part of him had hoped the bracelet wouldn’t work. He’d hoped to be able to tell his father, truthfully, that the stone had never so much as glimmered.

“Right,” Merlin repeated. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Arthur turned around and quickly slipped the envelope into his designated drawer at the desk. With a deep breath, he made sure his sleeve was all the way down and then turned back around. “Anything else?”

Merlin frowned, his expression darkening. “Why do you do that?” he asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arthur lied. He glanced around, sure that Mr. Monmouth was about to appear from around a corner despite knowing that all the offices were vacant.

“Shut down. We were talking and then you – ” He cut himself off. Shaking his head, he leveled a light glare on Arthur. “I don’t know what happened to you when we were kids, Arthur. I don’t understand why you pushed me away, why you’re _still_ pushing me away. But if it has something to do with your dad, then I need you to know that you can’t let him control you. You’re more than your dad and whatever crazy idea he put in your head. You’re –!”

“You’re right,” Arthur interrupted. The speech was nice, but it just made his chest ache. “You don’t know what happened. You don’t know what I’ve been trying to do. But my father didn’t brainwash me, Merlin. I’m not his puppet.”

“From the outside, it certainly looks like you are,” Merlin answered. “Ask around. You do everything he asks you to. You make excuses for him. You pretend like you don’t have hobbies or interests he wouldn’t approve of!” He held his hand up, cutting off both Arthur’s rebuttal and his own continuing rant. Merlin took a deep breath and shook his head again. “I just wish you’d stop pretending to be something we both know you aren’t.”

He left without giving Arthur time to reply. His words weren’t particularly sharp, but they still dug deep into Arthur’s chest. It had been his choice to push Merlin away, but seeing the consequences of that still hurt. Merlin could still read him better than most people. How could he do that? He looked at Arthur and called him out like they were still friends, like he still knew who Arthur was under all of his bravado and bullshit.

But Arthur wasn’t brainwashed. His father hadn’t converted him. He’d pushed Merlin away for his own safety. He was still pushing Merlin away to keep him safe. If Merlin knew that, then maybe he’d understand. But then he’d try to do something about it. Merlin was a fool sometimes, and Arthur couldn’t protect him from himself.

He would just have to endure Merlin’s glares and disappointment. It was worth it.

\--- --- ---

Part of Arthur wanted to never wear the bracelet again. Tell his dad it broke or he lost it or that it never lit up so it must be a dud. But every morning, his father asked about it, and every evening he asked to see it again, as if it would give him a detailed report of the day. Every time he asked, Arthur felt the urge to tell him it didn’t matter, to take it back. But his father was always so excited about Arthur wearing it, always so proud to have Arthur helping him. No one else had any understanding of Uther Pendragon’s obsession. He hid it so well when he left the house. Having his son on his side? It meant the world to him.

Arthur didn’t want to take that away from him.

So he wore it. And he hated it. And he covered it with a bulky wristband whenever he could, because he couldn’t wear a jacket forever. He was uneasy and on edge all the time. Any day could be the day Mr. Monmouth noticed he was covering the bracelet or that his father made an impromptu visit to the campus and saw it glowing near Merlin, or someone else for that matter. Merlin couldn’t be the only one.

He saw Merlin more than he’d like. Not nearly as much as he’d like. He saw Merlin more regularly than he had in the last decade, because Arthur kept setting up the interviews for the centennial Alumni Spotlight, and Merlin was always there for them. He didn’t always conduct the interview, but he always supervised.

It was strange to be in the same room and yet never speak. They exchanged glances and had whole, annoying conversations with their eyebrows. One would be caught staring and the other would raise their eyebrows as if to ask “what are you staring at?” and the original would shake their head and open their expression up in the universal signal of “nothing” and then the other would glare to tell them to “mind your own business”. Or some variation thereof.

It was exhausting. It was slightly infuriating. Arthur thrilled in it. Which was so beyond pathetic that he might just lock himself in the next office and die. He and Merlin were basically arguing and he was excited about it?! Was he so deprived of conversation and comebacks? That was impossible, because Arthur’s best friend was Gwaine, who never shut up and regularly contested everything Arthur said.

Arthur was two steps from embarrassing himself. He could feel it.

And then a few weeks into interviews and planning and budgeting, Arthur noticed the stone glowing again when he was nowhere near Merlin. He was in the parking lot, heading for his car to head home. The sun had set, so at first he didn’t notice anyone around. He dropped his school bag into the passenger seat and ripped the wrist band off so his father could see the bracelet when he got home. That’s when he saw the glow.

It wasn’t as bright as when he was around Merlin, and Arthur took it to mean the sorcerer wasn’t standing so close – which would be terrifying since that would put them inside Arthur’s car. He quickly glanced in his backseat just to be sure and relaxed when he saw no one sitting there. Then he cast his eyes around the dark, mostly empty parking lot. A few spaces down was another car and two people stepping up beside it. They were talking over the hood.

Arthur hid his wrist behind him so the light wouldn’t blind him and squinted. He thought he knew that car. The two people opened their doors and slid into the car. Arthur’s eyes flew wide, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. A red light came with the movement and he realized he’d brought up the hand with the bracelet. Cursing, he switched hands and dropped to a crouch to hide behind his car.

In the other car, Morgana Lefay had almost caught sight of him. It was Morgana! And some kid, but also Morgana! His half-sister was a sorcerer? Or was it the teenager with her? Or both? There was no way Uther knew about it if it was Morgana.

Arthur’s thoughts ran over the Lefay house, with all of its antique furniture and Celtic symbols and – Was it possible they were all sorcerers? It would be the greatest irony Arthur had ever heard of.

He kept low as Morgana’s car backed up and drove out of the parking lot, moving away from Arthur’s hiding spot. He felt like a coward, hiding behind his car. He could have just lied or waved and moved on with his life, but instead he’d hidden. But if he had waved, if she’d seen his expression, if she’d come over to say hello – what would he have done? He felt unsteady. He didn’t know what he would have done.

Merlin being a sorcerer was one thing. They were neighbors, but Arthur could keep him away from Uther by distancing himself. Morgana was Uther’s daughter. She never visited anymore, but what if Uther had another bracelet and went to see her for lunch? What if Uther had a new detection item somewhere else in the house and Morgana came by for something important? It would be a disaster.

Arthur honestly had no idea if her relation to Uther would save her from his obsessive nature. He blamed magic for killing his wife. He blamed Vivienne for stealing Morgana. If he found out Morgana had magic, that she undoubtedly inherited it from Vivienne? Arthur shivered with the possibilities.

He had to consider the other person in the car, though. What if he was wrong and Morgana was completely normal? The sorcerer could have been the teenager with her. And since when did Morgana have teenage best friends?

His foot slid on the asphalt of the parking lot and he jolted from his thoughts. Damn. Why was he panicking? He needed to calm down. He would approach this logically. First step, eliminate Morgana as a suspect. He would text her and ask to meet. Would it be better to meet in public or at her house? Arthur took a deep, stabilizing breath. Public would mean less chance of her causing a scene but more chances of her feeling cornered and attacked. Her house meant more chances of Morgause being around. He frowned. Neither option sounded fair in his mind.

Pulling out his phone, he brought up her latest message, the one reminding him about coming to dinner. They really needed to talk more.

“Free for lunch this week?” he sent.

She was driving, so he didn’t expect a quick response. Tabling his panic, he rounded his car and got into the driver’s seat. Turn on the car. Back up. Turn and drive for home. He didn’t let himself think until he was on the main road, the lulling mindlessness of driving the same roads allowing his thoughts to wander.

Where should he ask to meet? He was brave enough to confront Morgana about having magic, because he knew she would hear him out. She’d laugh if he was wrong and tease him for months, but if he was right – if she was a sorceress, then he didn’t fear her. She wouldn’t attack him on sight. He couldn’t say the same of Morgause, who hated everything about his father and saw too much of him in Arthur.

By the time he parked in front of his house, his phone had two messages, both from Morgana.

“Sure. How’s Thursday?” she asked, then followed it up with, “The café on Mulberry?”

Tension leaked out of Arthur’s shoulders that he hadn’t even noticed building up. The café on Mulberry had views of the Albion City Park, where Morgana and Arthur had played as children. The park was neutral ground for whatever Arthur had to talk about. She was showing a sense of wisdom that Arthur, begrudgingly, admitted he often lacked.

“See you then,” he sent back and slipped out of his car.

His father was in the den when he walked inside. Uther Pendragon looked up from whatever he was working on – actual work this time, because he only worked on his sorcerer obsession in his office where there were no windows – and smiled at him.

“Welcome home, Arthur. Anything interesting at school today?” he asked.

Arthur gave an unfortunate shrug and shake of his head. “No, Father. No one interesting today.”

“I have faith in you,” his father replied. Then he motioned toward the kitchen. “There’s some lasagna for you in the microwave.”

“Thank you.”

Arthur pressed the magical gemstone against his side as he went to retrieve his dinner. After briefly heating it up, he escaped with the plate into his room. His father didn’t exactly approve of him eating in his room and not at the table, but he’d long ago stopped pestering Arthur about it. Anyway it had been something like fifteen years since Arthur had spilled anything on the carpet.

After setting the plate down on his desk, Arthur turned and opened his curtains to let in the fading light of the sun and the glow of the streetlamps nearby. Then he sat down to eat and plan out how he was going to confront Morgana about probably, maybe, most likely being a sorceress. This was going to be a long night.

\--- --- ---

The Café on Mulberry had smoothies that Morgana would kill for. Arthur was partial to their paninis. Both siblings loved the atmosphere. They met just inside the door, ordered their food together, and then Arthur paid for it before Morgana could even get her wallet out.

“Awfully chivalrous of you, little brother,” Morgana teased.

They found a table outside under a big blue umbrella and dug into their food. Morgana had a salad, but it was full of so much chicken and beef that it looked like it had more protein than Arthur’s whole sandwich. While they ate, they chatted about school and mutual acquaintances – all safe subjects for both of them. Morgana didn’t bring up Merlin, and Arthur didn’t bring up his father, and so both participants were happy with the small talk.

Once they had finished eating, they took their drinks and walked over to the park. They used to love coming to the park together. Back before Morgana had moved out, before Arthur discovered Merlin was a sorcerer, back when they were just kids and they loved to run around in the park and judge people together.

They chose a bench just inside the park and sat down to people watch. Morgana gave him an intense look that Arthur ignored in favor of counting the visible dogs. She knew he was procrastinating about the reason for their lunch. He was just still unsure about how to approach the subject. He loved his sister and worried about how she’d react. She’d be angry, certainly, but not as volatile as her sister. But she loved him too – he knew it – so hopefully she’d hear him out.

"You're being quiet. Not that you brooding is completely unusual, but you asked to meet me. I expect there was a reason." She tilted her head, her hair up in a ponytail and falling over her shoulder.  
  
Pursing his lips slightly, Arthur tried to remember the speech he'd gone over and over and over in the days leading up to this. It all sounded weak when he tried to push it past his lips. Shaking his head, he turned to face his sister.  
  
"Have I told you I love you?" He asked, honestly curious.  
  
Morgana broke into a smile that was both nervous and grateful. "Not since you were, like, ten. Arthur, is everything okay?"  
  
"I hope so. I just wanted you to know you could tell me _anything_." He stressed the last word, but Morgana's eyes only narrowed in confusion. He leaned forward toward her slightly. "Any secret of yours would be safe with me," he tried again. "Especially from our father."

"Arthur, what-?"  
  
Slowly, Arthur looked down at his wrist and slipped his wristband off. He hadn't checked it yet, and he'd still been in denial to a certain degree on his way to meet her, but he still wasn't surprised to see the stone glowing red against his skin. So it had been Morgana the stone was reacting to. There was no doubt now. In a way, Arthur felt relieved.   
  
In front of him, Morgana gasped and drew his attention.  
  
"Is that-?" She glanced between his eyes and his bracelet. "Can I-?"  
  
Arthur offered up his wrist for inspection. His sister's fingers hovered over the stone as she considered it, never daring to touch it. Her eyes were intense and serious. Somehow, like his father, she knew what it was. With a strange fierceness, she returned her gaze to his.  
  
"So you know," she said. Her voice was definitive, but not an accusation.   
  
"I had a theory," Arthur corrected. "I knew that this thing worked, but I didn't know if it was reacting to you or -"  
  
"Why are you searching for sorcerers?" Morgana asked, cutting him off. Her voice and posture were only growing tenser.

Slipping his wristband back on, Arthur said, "I'm not." She gave him a disbelieving look and motioned to his wrist. "Father asked me to wear it and tell him who made it react, but as you can see, I’m not exactly following orders. It’s hard to see something glow when you keep it under a wristband.”

“Point taken,” Morgana agreed, but she still seemed wary. “So now what? You’ve confirmed your suspicions. What was your plan?”

Good question. Arthur frowned. “I don’t know many sorcerers,” he said. “Father believes they’re all evil and should be eradicated. But you’ve been my sister for a lifetime. You hate our father so much, and yet he’s still alive. I have to believe that means he’s wrong about people like you.”

“Of course he is,” Morgan said waspishly. “Uther is vindictive and rarely takes the blame for his own mistakes. He broke your mother’s heart and her will to live, and yet he blames magic for it. Are you really surprised to discover he lied about what and who we are?”

Arthur thought of the window across from his, where he’d seen the intensity of power that Merlin could control on the night his mother died. Magic users were dangerous people. They could do inhuman things. And yet Merlin took the bus to school and headed up a literature club and grew stupid flowers in his backyard by hand. Where was the dangerous magic user in that?

And Vivienne? She cooked him food, often when he wasn’t even around to eat it. Morgana would shove it into his chest and tell him to say thank you, even though he’d bailed on another dinner invitation. The food was always homemade and delicious, the kind of food made from years of experience and love. The kind of food that didn’t exist in the Pendragon house. Where was the evil in that?

“I’m not surprised,” Arthur answered shortly. “And I don’t have a plan. I just wanted to tell you that I knew.”

She leaned back on the bench, her body still tight but trying to appear relaxed. “So you won’t be telling Uther about me and my family. And, what, you’re going to lie to him if he asks? You think you can handle lying about something this huge? This is Uther’s secret life’s work. It’s everything he actually cares about.”

“I can handle my father,” Arthur assured. He’d been doing it for years, after all. “You don’t have to worry about me holding my tongue, Morgana. I told you. Your secret’s safe with me.”

She studied him for a long moment, her beautiful eyes made even more penetrating by the cat eye makeup she wore. He did his best not to squirm. His father’s gaze was unflinching, and Arthur always managed to hold himself together through those tense moments. But for some reason, Morgana’s stare made him want to shift and fidget. After what felt like a lifetime, her brow knit in concern, then in something that was dangerously close to pity.

“You know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve known for years, haven’t you?”

Arthur’s forehead knit together. “Morgana, I don’t –“

“About Merlin,” she clarified. Arthur’s lips snapped shut and pressed into a thin line. Lying about it had become such a second nature. Morgana frowned deeply. “Is that why you stopped being his friend? You just said you’d keep my secret from Uther. Is that why you pushed Merlin away? You’re trying to be some kind of hero and protect Merlin from our father?”

“You just said our father is vindictive,” Arthur said, voice too hard. Her words felt like an attack, and he hated it. “You don’t know what he was like. After the black out, he was relentless. He saw magic in everything. Morgana, he was looking for sorcerers at the _funeral_. I couldn’t –“ He took a slow breath and let it out carefully. “It was the only way I could keep him safe.”

He couldn’t look at Morgana. He couldn’t face her pitying look, so he looked out at the families in the park instead: couples with children, joggers with headphones in, people and their dogs, anything but Morgana. Her hand slid over his, which were gripped tightly together in between his knees. He didn’t push her off, but he still didn’t look at her.

“I did whatever I could,” he murmured. “When he tried to talk to me and our father was around, I pushed him away – sometimes literally. I left earlier in the morning just so we wouldn’t walk to school together at the same time. I avoided him at school. I stopped answering his phone calls. I did _everything_ to make him stay away. And I told Father it was because Merlin was too depressing after his mother died.” He shook his head and pulled one hand away to run through his hair. “And Father _believed_ it. He believed I would abandon a friend just because they were in mourning! I don’t know if he really thought so little of me or if… if I should think so little of him. Morgana –“

“You were a kid, Arthur.” She moved her hand to his shoulder and tugged until he faced her. “And Merlin was still learning about his magic. It was leaking out of him in his grief, and our father would have noticed. You – You were right that it was dangerous for Merlin to be around him. But –“ She shook her head slightly. “You’re not a child anymore, Arthur. And Merlin is in control. He’s an adult. He can take care of himself.”

“Father hasn’t given up the search. He gave me this bracelet to find the sorcerer who caused the blackout. He’s never going to give up,” Arthur countered. Never. Uther would continue to search, continue to obsess. Arthur would be stuck in that house, throwing off his search forever. He grit his teeth against the idea.

Morgana sighed, but more like she was tired than disappointed. “Arthur, listen to me. You don’t need to keep Merlin at a distance anymore. He still talks about you, you know? And I can tell this hurt you as much as it hurt him. I think if you reached out to him, he’d give you another chance. And he’s more than capable of staying away from our father while he does it.” She smirked. “I mean, he’s lived next door this whole time, right under Uther’s nose, and nothing has happened to him, right? That can’t all be thanks to you.”

So maybe she had a point. Hope, as dangerous as it was, blossomed in Arthur’s chest. Could he really be given another chance? Could he and Merlin be friends again? Arthur might be trapped deluding his father for the rest of the man’s life, but maybe he could have this one thing he wanted. Not Merlin’s love but at least his friendship. They could be friends without his father finding out what Merlin was and hurting him.

Well, couldn’t they?

\--- --- ---

That night, Arthur laid awake in bed, phone in hand. He had Merlin’s text message conversation open, but it was completely blank. They’d texted each other only twice in the last ten years, and it was Arthur telling Merlin about one of their meetings. He didn’t know how to start explaining what he’d done or why. What was the best opener for that kind of conversation? Or he could just type the whole thing out, explain everything, and let that be the opening. No, that was too much to throw on someone.

Groaning in aggravation, Arthur rolled onto his side and stared at his blank message then let his eyes wander to his window. Merlin’s bedroom light had been off when Arthur checked earlier. His own room light was off too, but he had his phone’s light and a small bedside lamp to see by.

Why did talking to Merlin have to be so damn difficult? Why couldn’t it be as simple as throwing open his window and calling out?

Arthur sat up suddenly and turned off his phone. Maybe talking to Merlin really was that easy.

He got out of bed and moved to his storage box by his window. His sketchbook was still there, as were all the words he’d written just a short while ago. Arthur uncapped his marker and stared down at the first empty page.

“I Want To Talk,” he wrote. He tore the page out and taped it up in his window, just like he used to do all those years ago. Then, frowning, he picked up the book again. “Please,” he wrote on the next page and then stuck it up beside the other one.

This form of communication had been theirs, meant only for each other. It was more personal than a text, even if texting was where they ended up. This was Arthur’s ice breaker. Now he just needed Merlin to see it and accept it.

\--- --- ---

In the morning, Arthur checked out his window, but there was no note from Merlin.

When he got home after school, he checked again. Still no note.

It occurred to him that Merlin probably wasn’t checking out his window for any kind of message, and there wasn’t much to see out of either of their windows except each other. Merlin’s window had the blinds pulled up, but Merlin wasn’t looking out at the world. He probably had no idea Arthur had even put a message up. And there was no telling how long it would take him to finally check.

Arthur sat at his window and stared over into Merlin’s room. He could see Merlin at his desk, his back to the window. The sun had gone down, which meant Arthur actually had a better view into the room than normal, and he mapped the way Merlin’s ceiling light played with the wrinkles in Merlin’s shirt.

A piece of paper fluttered up from Merlin’s desk and hovered in the air there. Merlin reached up and tacked it to his corkboard on the wall. It was so seamless that Arthur almost thought he’d imagined the paper moving on its own. Then it happened again. Merlin wrote for a minute, a paper flew up, and Merlin tacked it to the board.

Arthur let out all the air in him in a slow, awed breath. He’d expected all magic to be like the day Merlin had blown out the lights all over the neighborhood, but this? This was effortless. This was mundane. This was incredible. Merlin looked around for something, spotted it, then summoned it from across the room without the slightest sign of stress. He might as well have been stretching or folding laundry for how much effort it seemed to take him.

The object he hovered over to himself was his phone. He stared down at it and Arthur got a weird feeling in his stomach. He stepped away from the window to grab his own phone. He had no new messages, no new notification, but seeing Merlin with his phone made Arthur anxious for his own – like some kind of separation anxiety.

He returned to the window and looked out. His heart fell. Merlin had dropped his blinds and blocked the view. He must have seen Arthur’s message. If he looked out the window, he would have seen it instantly, even in the dim light.

But he hadn’t put up a return message. He’d shut the blinds. He’d shut Arthur out. With a sigh of dejection and aggravation, Arthur let his own curtains fall over the window and block out the sight. He returned to his bed and sat there, staring at his phone and willing it to light up with a text. But it didn’t.

After several long moments, he groaned and flopped back in bed, prepared for a restless night’s sleep.

When his alarm went off in the morning, he almost forgot he’d been disappointed the night before. He stretched and yawned and checked his phone. No messages. But it wasn’t until he was stepping into the spray of his shower that he remembered Merlin’s shut window. He sighed.

He’d have to come up with a new plan. Maybe he could try making conversation at school? Did they have any meetings coming up? He was still trying to hash out possible ways to pepper in conversation throughout their centennial prep when he returned to his room and pushed open his curtain in the vain hope of a message. His stomach gave a flip at what he saw.

Merlin was at his window, taping up a piece of paper. When Arthur appeared, clad only in his towel, Merlin looked up and spotted him. Arthur’s eyes widened in shock, and so did Merlin’s. Then Merlin moved quickly out of his window and dropped his blinds, but his message was still there on the glass.

“I’m Listening.”

A laugh punched itself out of Arthur’s chest before he could catch it. Merlin had replied. He was willing to hear Arthur’s explanation. Without even grabbing proper clothes, Arthur ripped off his old message and dropped to sit by his storage box. He pulled out his sketchpad and began his next note.

“Excalibur. Tomorrow @ 6?”

He messed up the tape on his first attempt because he was in a rush, but eventually he got the message to stick. Then he dropped his curtain over the window to hide the message from anyone inside his room. His father had been known to come up and clean when his help wasn’t needed or wanted. With that done, Arthur scrambled to get dressed and downstairs before his father could debate coming to find him.

Merlin had replied. Arthur had a chance to correct his brutish, cold behavior from the last ten years. He was so anxious and excited, that he barely heard a word his father said through the whole of breakfast.

\--- --- ---

There was a small forest a few blocks over from where Arthur lived. As a child, he had often snuck away to explore it, and of course he had always taken Merlin. He would grab Merlin’s hand and march him off in some new direction, off on an adventure he’d only half planned out. He’d bait and insult Merlin, and Merlin would complain endlessly, but off they went alone together anyway.

On one of their adventures, they had found a boulder with a hole in the top. Arthur had been carrying a small branch and, as children do, decided to shove the branch into the hole. And then couldn’t pull it back out.

“Guess you sacrificed your sword,” Merlin had teased while Arthur scowled.

“I didn’t sacrifice it. I’m saving it.” He had pat the branch determinedly. “I’m putting it back where it belongs. The next king of Albion will be able to pull it from the stone.”

Merlin had snorted, of course, but then he’d given a pretty great speech in honor of the new legend. Together they had named the branch-sword “Excalibur” and marked the area with the stone as sacred. They visited the stone multiple times in the next couple of months, and though Arthur hadn’t been there in over a decade, he still remembered the way.

The forest was virtually the same and Arthur found his path easily. It didn’t take his adult legs very long to traverse what took his kid legs nearly half an hour, and soon he saw the tiny clearing where the stone and Excalibur sat waiting. And not just them – Merlin was already there, sitting on a small stone and staring at the old branch stuck in the boulder.

Arthur’s chest felt tight and he stopped several steps earlier than he’d planned. Now was the moment of truth.

“Wasting daylight,” Merlin said, turning slowly to look at Arthur. He motioned for Arthur to come closer and rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to bite you.”

Arthur swallowed thickly and hid his nerves behind a frown as he came to stand on the other side of Excalibur. The branch had sprouted mini branches over the years, and now it looked more like a tiny tree. Arthur looked over the fake sword closely before he finally managed to look up at Merlin. The sorcerer looked tired and the conversation hadn’t even begun.

Merlin sighed. “Look, you said you wanted to talk, but if you’re just going to give me more of the silent treatment, I’ll go home.” He looked down at the boulder. “I thought you asking to meet out here was a sign or something. You know? Because this place meant so much to us as kids. But –“

“I’m sorry,” Arthur interrupted. When Merlin’s eyes looked up at him again, he looked confused, his brow knit tight, so Arthur continued. “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you and for pushing you away when we were kids. I – I just wanted you to know. I’m just… sorry?”

For a moment, only the sound of animals in the leaves permeated the space. Merlin’s frown didn’t let up, but eventually he sighed. “I don’t think you understand,” he said quietly. “You used to be my best friend.”

“Yes, and you were my best friend too,” Arthur interrupted again. “Merlin. You were…” He searched for words. “You were the bravest person I knew. No matter what I dragged you into, you’d follow me.”

At that, Merlin smirked and shook his head. “I seem to remember complaining a lot. Loudly, too.”

“Annoyingly so,” Arthur confirmed, but he was smiling. Merlin sounded almost fond. “But you still came.”

“Well yeah.” Merlin stood and motioned around them to the trees. “I would have followed you anywhere. My mother always said we were two sides of the same coin.”

Arthur’s smile fell away. “I remember. And that was why I pushed you away.”

“What?” Merlin frowned too and he clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “Because I went everywhere with you?”

Arthur huffed and took several steps away from Excalibur. “No,” he said in aggravation. “Because you fried half a dozen city blocks. I watched you do it.” He turned to confront Merlin and saw the stunned expression on his face. “I saw the police officers go in your house and I just knew something had happened. And then I watched you make a _tornado_ in your room and when you screamed –“ Arthur turned away again and ran a hand through his hair. “That night changed everything. For both of us.”

For a moment Merlin was quiet, and when he did finally speak, his voice was soft and cautious. “You've known the whole time?”

Arthur shook his head and dared to turn around again. “I found out you were a sorcerer that night, not before. And at breakfast the next morning, I knew I had to distance myself from you. For your own safety.”

Merlin snorted again, but there was no real humor behind it this time. “Spare me, Arthur. What the hell does that mean? For my own safety?”

“My father hunts sorcerers.” He said it as bluntly as he could.  
  


The seriousness of the statement was echoed in Merlin’s stunned expression. Arthur catalogued the widening of Merlin’s eyes, the concerned stretch of his brow, the way his nostrils flared as he tried to compute the danger he’d been unaware of and then tried to come up with some kind of retort.

Arthur spared him from the second part at least. “And you _are_ brave, Merlin, but you're also a fool, and you would have tried to do something stupid if I'd told you the truth.”

Merlin’s eyes widened before narrowing again and he huffed indignantly. “Like what?”

“Like confront my father about his racism against sorcerers and gotten yourself hurt, or worse, killed.” Arthur paused and raised his eyebrows in a way that dared Merlin to contradict him. “You haven't seen the things he has in his office. He'd bind your magic before you thought to defend yourself.”

The forest felt like it was sucking up their words, keeping them private. In the wake of Arthur’s warning, the trees were so quiet that it seemed they were the only two people in the world. Arthur held Merlin’s gaze, ignoring the fear inside himself so that he appeared steadfast and assured. On the other side of the tiny bush of Excalibur, Merlin frowned, his lips pulling to the side.

“If you were so worried about me before, why are you telling me now?” he asked, suspicious.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur sighed dramatically. “Because I’m tired, Merlin!” He motioned to the sorcerer. “I’m tired of pretending I hate you.”

Merlin’s eyes widened briefly. “Well – I mean – You… You don’t?”

Arthur sighed again. “I already told you, you were my best friend.” His forehead knit as he remembered he had a new best friend and he frowned slightly. “Although, I think Gwaine is going to want to duel you for the title now.”

“Hang on,” Merlin quickly interjected, holding up both his hands. “Are you saying we’re friends again?”

Frown still in place, Arthur tried to hide his disappointment. “Yes? Do you not want to be? I suppose I understand. I’ve been pretty insufferable, and –“

“Arthur, shut up.” Merlin let out a little chuckle and Arthur felt his chest swell with hope. “You dollop head. I definitely want to be your friend again.” He walked around the boulder to smack Arthur lightly on the arm. “And I’ll just stay away from your dad. Easy. So you can stop trying to protect me.”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to snort. “Not likely,” he muttered. Merlin smiled, and Arthur thought he hadn’t been this happy in years.

\--- --- ---

A few nights later, Arthur was staring up at the bright lights of a concession stand, waiting for Merlin and Gwaine to come out of the bathroom so they could find their movie theater together. He had almost convinced himself that it was worth paying for a bucket of popcorn when he heard his friends returning.

Gwaine was talking and Merlin was laughing, though Arthur couldn’t hear the joke. It was enough to see Merlin laughing nearby. It had been a long time since Arthur was able to be this close without ruining the mood. He smiled and noted the way Merlin’s eyes still scrunched up when he laughed.

Beautiful.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. Hang on. Was Gwaine flirting? He was leaning in pretty close as they walked, and he had that look on his face that he always got when talking to pretty women at school. Merlin’s laugh suddenly sounded flustered, and Arthur knew Gwaine was definitely, absolutely flirting.

If anyone asked, Arthur would not admit to being jealous. However, he still walked to meet them – concessions forgotten – and awkwardly stepped into their space so they’d have to separate more.

“Took you two long enough. We need to head to the theater or we’ll miss the previews,” Arthur said, voice almost a grunt. “Come on, Merlin.”

Instead of looking put out, Gwaine started smirking. Arthur did his best not to look worried about that look. The brunette leaned back slightly and whistled. “Possessive, ey Arthur? I’m sorry. Didn’ realize Merlin was already spoken for. I’ll keep the flattery to a minimum, yeah?”

Arthur’s expression might have been passive, but he couldn’t hide the heat in his cheeks. “Shut up, Gwaine,” he muttered and began walking toward the hallway with their movie theater.

The other two followed without comment. They found their theater and their seats, and Arthur sat between the other two while claiming it had the best vantage point. Merlin didn’t say anything about it, but Gwaine kept waggling his eyebrows at Arthur like they were sharing a juicy secret. Arthur smacked him in the shoulder for his trouble.

The movie was good, and afterward they all went out for fast food so that the day didn’t have to end. At first, Arthur had been nervous about rekindling his friendship with Merlin so abruptly. He’d assumed the conversations would be stilted, the information given would be paltry, and hangouts would be dry and awkward. The truth was that Merlin seemed just as eager as Arthur to put the past behind them. Merlin was better than Arthur at coming up with topics for conversation, so they had yet to have an awkward silence, and Gwaine seemed to like Merlin too – a bit too much, honestly – so the outing with both of them had turned out amazing.

The downside was that Arthur still had to lie to his father, so he pretended Merlin hadn’t come along when he told his father where he’d been for so long.

And for a few weeks, life was actually good. Sure, Arthur was still lying at home, but everything else was brighter. Merlin dropped by the centennial office to eat lunch most days, and Arthur was just about always there because he had no life.

“The centennial is going to be amazing,” Merlin said, mouth still partly full of food.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Arthur ordered, eyes still going over details of the parade route Gwen had submitted.

“But you need to take a break, or you’re gonna burn out,” Merlin continued, ignoring him. A tiny piece of lettuce escaped Merlin’s lips and landed on the wood of the desk.

Arthur pouted. “You’re a heathen.”

With a roll of his eyes, Merlin swallowed and then sighed. His eyes flashed momentarily bright gold and the piece of lettuce vanished. Arthur swallowed thickly, and he hadn’t even been eating. Slowly, he skimmed his hand over the table and through where the food had been. Nothing.

“Calm down, Arthur. It’s not invisible. It’s in the trash,” Merlin explained and lazily motioned toward a nearby trash bin.

“Should you really be doing magic so… openly?” Arthur asked, glancing around as if Mr. Monmouth was about to appear from around a corner with a pitchfork.

“I’ve been doing it all my life. I think I’ll be okay,” Merlin assured with a bit of a smirk, but when he saw Arthur’s expression, he nodded. He put his hand on the desk near Arthur’s. “I’ll be more careful around the office. Fair?”

“Fine.”

Arthur conceded because he knew he couldn’t change Merlin’s habits, but he also loved seeing Merlin’s everyday magic. The way his eyes flashed golden when he enchanted something, like the sun was trapped behind them, made Arthur’s chest flutter with excitement and anxiety at the same time. He loved seeing it, but the chance of Merlin being discovered still terrified him.

He looked back down at the parade route for a moment, determined to finish before he had his next class. But his mind was distracted. Carefully, and a little unsure how it would be received, Arthur set his hand over Merlin’s on the desk. He glanced up at his friend and found Merlin smiling, small but sure. His stomach knotted slightly and Arthur smiled back just for a second. Then he let go, cleared his throat, and focused on his work. Across the desk, Merlin ate his lunch.

No one else came into the office. The main lobby was almost their own private space. Arthur loved it.

The red stone on Arthur’s wrist was lit up constantly when Merlin was around, but he only saw it during lunch visits. When in the office, he had to keep his wristband off, just in case Mr. Monmouth spotted him. But once Merlin started eating lunch in the office, Arthur had taken to hiding his wrist under a desk or paperwork if the old man happened to walk through. In that way, the glow felt like their secret too, as if they had planned for it to be there all along.

Merlin’s secret smiles, his teasing, his contesting of Arthur’s choices – it all felt so natural. Morgana had been right. Merlin forgave him. They were fast friends again, almost as if nothing had happened. Every time Merlin teased him, Arthur felt a rush of pleasure, and every time he teased back, he caught Merlin smiling. They were still testing the limits of their friendship, but somehow it felt easy.

Two sides of the same coin, indeed.

After lunch, Merlin cleaned up his food and Arthur put away his paperwork.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom before I go,” Merlin said, motioning down toward one of the teacher offices. There was a bathroom there at the start of the hall.

“Okay. I’ll see you later, then. I have to get across campus.” Arthur motioned over his shoulder vaguely.

Merlin shrugged and they said goodbye. Sometimes they walked together, but not every time. Honestly, Gwaine was a little jealous of the amount of time Merlin was spending with Arthur, but Arthur just teased that Gwaine could come spend his lunches with Arthur too if he wanted, but the brunette liked being around people in the Student Union too much.

Arthur stepped out of the office and into the main hall, only to be caught with his hand still propping the door open.

“Arthur!” It was his father. His voice and expression were beaming with pride, but Arthur froze as if he’d been threatened.

“F-Father?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

The bathroom door clicked shut inside the office. Shit. Arthur hoped Merlin had heard and just stayed quiet in the bathroom. Shit.

“I wanted to check up on – “ Uther’s voice faded out, his face shutting down. His eyes, Arthur noticed, were not on Arthur’s face anymore but on his arm. Arthur looked down and saw the stone on his wrist was still glowing.

Shit.

From one breath to the next, Uther was upon him. He grabbed Arthur’s shoulders and pushed him back inside the office. “Where is it?” he asked, voice hushed but dangerous. His eyes darted around the lobby, but there was no one in sight. “Who’s here, Arthur?”

“N-No one,” Arthur lied as his father manhandled him down the halls. As if the stone would glow brighter the closer it got to a sorcerer, Uther tugged Arthur around the empty offices and kept glancing back at the stone for clues. It was still glowing, but nothing else was changing.

None of the teachers or faculty were in at the moment. Not even one. Arthur knew that the only person who could be around to cause the glow was Merlin, trapped in the bathroom. After verifying all the offices were empty, Uther stopped in the lobby and frowned.

“I told you. No one is here,” Arthur said, ripping his arm from his father’s grip. “I don’t know why the stone is glowing. It does it all the time in the office, even when I’m alone.”

“You’re sure you’re alone?” Uther asked, suspicious.

“I’d have told you if the bracelet revealed someone,” Arthur insisted. “I assumed the stone was reacting to some kind of furniture in here – perhaps an old student enchanted the desk to never break or something, that kind of thing.” When Uther kept looking around, as though a new person would suddenly appear, Arthur insisted, “Father, I’m telling you, it’s just us in here.”

For a moment, Uther seemed to believe him, but then his eyes landed on the bathroom door. He walked closer and tried to listen through the wood of the door. Arthur’s stomach knotted painfully.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorcerers are devious. I’m checking all hiding places.” Uther turned the handle to the bathroom and Arthur felt ice in his veins when a lock didn’t stop him. Merlin hadn’t locked the door?

Eyes hard, Uther took a deep breath and then thrust the door open wide. Arthur jumped up beside him, prepared to defend Merlin’s life, and grabbed his father’s wrist tight. But Uther wasn’t moving to enter the room. Looking past his father, Arthur realized the bathroom was empty.

Like his father, Arthur let his eyes scan every corner of the room. There was no sign of Merlin – not even a shadow.

“I told you there’s no one here,” Arthur said, hoping he didn’t sound as strained as he felt. “You’re being paranoid, Father.”

Uther stepped back from the bathroom, letting the door slowly ease shut. His eyes focused on Arthur’s still glowing bracelet and he frowned. “Perhaps you’re right and it is some kind of enchanted object in here.” He clapped his hand securely on Arthur’s shoulder. “Keep aware, Arthur. Even objects can be dangerous. Together we’ll find the sorcerers responsible for casting enchantments over our city and stop them.”

“Father – “

But Arthur didn’t get to continue. Uther pat his shoulder again and then directed Arthur from the room. “Come now. You have a class to get to, am I right? We can talk on the way.”

So Arthur left the office. Halfway down the hall, his bracelet finally stopped glowing. While his father spoke about his own time at the university and waxed poetic about the future, Arthur quietly pulled out his phone and brought up Merlin’s messages.

“Are you okay?” he sent.

The response was almost immediate. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

Arthur looked up at his father, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I’m okay.”

\--- --- ---

Avoiding Mr. Monmouth, Arthur chose to complete several centennial items outside of the office. He took a school-approved laptop and set himself up at a picnic table under a tree on the edge of a large strip of green near the middle of campus. The area was called The Park, like with Capital Letters. The school only used The Park for events, so the rest of the time it was open for club use or for students to lounge around or whatever. Arthur used it to avoid prying ears and suspicious eyes. Merlin sat at the base of the tree and read some book needed for one of his classes. It was called ‘We The Media’ and looked boring to Arthur, but Merlin had yet to complain about it.

Arthur was working on finalizing the gala, since it was only two weeks away. He had his finals next week, the gala the week after, and then the long semester of centennial celebrations kicked off that he had to supervise. As for the gala, Lancelot had made contact with Renegade Druid awhile ago, and they were more than happy to play the event. It was an excuse to come home and visit with their families if nothing else, but they also seemed excited about being invited. Lancelot claimed some of the members were already in town, but Arthur hadn’t heard anything on the news yet.

After sending off final emails about catering and decorators, Arthur leaned his head back to stretch his neck. He needed a break, a subject change, something.

“So, how did you escape the office?” he asked. It had been a few days, but he kept forgetting to ask whenever Merlin was around.

“I didn’t,” Merlin said, eyes never leaving his book.

Frowning, Arthur turned partway around to look at his friend. “But you were gone. My father searched every room. The bathroom was empty.”

Shrugging noncommittally, Merlin said, “I was invisible.”

“You – You can turn invisible?” Arthur asked, face slack with shock. Had Merlin been invisible any other time? Did he do that a lot? Maybe Arthur would keep the bracelet for a while if it let him know about invisible sorcerers. Or invisible people in general, but who else would be turning invisible?

“Kind of.” Merlin finally set down his book and pursed his lips. “I haven’t mastered it yet. It’s extremely difficult, to the point that I haven’t heard of anyone in modern days that’s pulled it off before. But it was the only way I could think of to get out of there, so I tried it.”

Arthur groaned and pressed his hand to his face for a moment. Rolling his eyes, he said sarcastically, “Well thank God you weren’t trying something really risky in a high stress situation like that, huh?”

For a moment, Merlin looked like he was going to argue the point, but then Arthur reached out and touched the only part of Merlin he could reach from his seat – Merlin’s knee. Whatever Merlin had been about to say died on his lips, and he glanced between Arthur’s face and his hand several times.

“I’m glad it worked,” Arthur clarified in a gentler tone.

“Arthur, I need to tell you –,” Merlin began, but again his words were halted, this time by the sound of someone loudly calling Arthur’s name.

Both young men looked over at the arrival and saw Morgana approaching. She had a young man with her, several years younger than herself. He looked similar to Merlin and Morgana with his dark hair and pale skin, and Arthur briefly wondered if he was a sorcerer and sorcerers just had that kind of look to them. But he didn’t pull his bracelet out to check and he decided he didn’t care.

“Morgana,” Arthur greeted and stood up to be polite. She waved him off but he didn’t sit. He motioned dramatically for her to join him. “To what do I owe the honor of your attention?”

His sister eyed Merlin on the ground before smiling smugly at him. He tried to ignore the look and she thankfully seemed to drop her tease. “I thought you might like to meet my friend – his name is Mordred. His mom and mine are old friends, and we met when Mordred came back to visit a few weeks ago.”

“Pleasure,” Arthur said, nodding to Mordred, whose gaze had also been on Merlin until he was addressed. “Sorry, but… who are you?” Why was he meant to care?

Morgana looked slightly offended, but Mordred chuckled softly and smiled. “Sorry. I should have been clear from the start. I’m the drummer for Renegade Druid – the band. I was told you were in charge of the centennial? And I wanted to come meet you.”

“Oh!” Arthur held his hand out immediately and Mordred took it to shake. “I’d heard some of you were in town already. It’s great to meet you. Are the other members here as well?”

Mordred laughed shyly. “No. No it’s just me. I came back because my mother heard we were doing the show and asked for me to come home early. The others arrive at the end of next week.”

“Just in time for us to prepare for the show,” Arthur noted. That made sense. “Well, I assure you we have everything planned for an excellent show. My colleague, Lancelot, has been working with your manager to get everything set to the band’s specifications.”

“I’m sure it’ll be a blast,” Mordred said, but his attention seemed divided. He kept glancing at Arthur’s hand. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but… I heard you have a druid stone on your wrist. Could I… see it?”

Arthur’s eyebrows rose but after only a moment, he nodded. He held his hand out again and Mordred held it gently. Carefully, the young man pushed back Arthur’s wristband and his gasp of admiration was matched only by Arthur’s gasp of surprise. The glow was brighter than ever before. Was this the effect of three sorcerers within three feet?

“It’s beautiful,” Mordred murmured and touched the stone reverently.

“I thought it was dangerous,” Arthur said, forehead knit. It detected magic, so it was a threat. Yet Mordred seemed in awe.

“In dangerous hands,” Mordred agreed. “But it’s just a beacon. Only a threat if the person holding it is a threat.” He released Arthur’s wrist and slipped his hands shyly back in his pockets while Arthur quickly covered the stone with his wristband. “Are you a threat?”

“No,” Arthur answered in a hard tone. “You have my support for as long as I’m able to give it.”

Mordred’s smile was small but understanding. “I believe you.”

His eyes flickered to Merlin, still sitting on the ground but no longer reading. He seemed half in awe of Merlin as well. Morgana noticed the look and smiled again.

“This is Merlin,” she introduced. “He’s the one I told you about.”

That got Merlin rising to his feet. He looked curiously at Morgana but reached out to shake Mordred’s hand. The young man started to reach back but hesitated. “I- Morgana wasn’t kidding. Your magic…”

“Sorry,” Merlin said and dropped his hand. He hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve worked pretty hard to rein it in, but I can’t seem to contain all of it.”

“It’s amazing.” Mordred’s smile was bordering on misty. “It’s just… such an honor to meet you.”

The shyness Merlin exhibited before compounded and he was definitely blushing now. He gave a quick smile before he glanced down at his phone. “It was nice meeting you too,” he said. “Unfortunately, I have to get to my next class. But, um, maybe we’ll talk later. Maybe.”

Arthur looked at his watch and frowned. “Shit. I mean, sorry. Merlin’s right. We have to go.” He nodded his goodbye to his sister and then looked back at Mordred. “If you have any questions for me, please feel free to ask through Morgana. Either way, I’ll see you next week. Thank you for dropping by.”

He gathered up his things and swung his bag over his shoulder. Merlin was waiting patiently for him and they both gave a last wave to their visitors before walking off in the same direction. When Arthur glanced back, he saw Morgana leading Mordred away in the opposite direction, and that’s when he let his curiosity bubble over.

“Okay, care to explain what happened back there?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Merlin stared resolutely ahead.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Merlin, we both know you don’t have a class to get to. You’re using my schedule as an excuse to leave the situation. That boy was practically fawning over you. Explain.”

At first, Merlin was silent. He glanced back like Arthur had and then sighed, loud and long. “Magic users can sense each other, kind of. Like your stone. Usually. It depends on how strong the magic is. For example, I can typically sense Morgana from a few feet away, even if she’s behind me or through a door.”

“And your magic?” Arthur asked. He remembered Merlin talking about getting it under control before, but he was beginning to think he didn’t know what that meant.

“I… I only have what other people tell me,” Merlin said, sounding like an excuse. He was flustered. “I just know that when I was a kid, my uncle kept telling me I had to get a handle on it, because people were always coming to see me who we didn’t know. And then after my mom died, I sort of – I don’t know. I had a guy come visit me from New York? And you started ignoring me, so I had plenty of free time, so I got control of it. At least most of the way. So now it’s not such a distance. It’s maybe further than most people’s magic reaches, but it’s not –”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur stressed, stopping in the middle of the walkway. He waited until Merlin faltered and turned to face him. “How far away does your magic reach?”

He held Merlin’s gaze, held it so Merlin couldn’t turn away. After barely a pause, Merlin said, “Seven yards.”

“Jesus.” Arthur covered his wrist with his hand. No wonder the stone had continued to glow even halfway down a hallway. Merlin’s magic was so strong that it was just leaking out everywhere. Hadn’t Morgana said something like that before?

“I’m working on it,” Merlin promised determinedly. “If I concentrate hard, I can contain it to something like two yards – just six feet – normal.”

“Merlin. Jesus.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair before he held his wrist up like damning evidence. “This – This is not the only magical detecting thing my father owns. It’s just the most innocuous. You live – There’s only like fifty feet between our windows. It’s a miracle my father hasn’t found you before now!”

“Ah.” Merlin frowned. “Actually Uncle Gaius has a spell on the house to keep magic inside. He put it in place after I blew the lights out.”

Arthur was flabbergasted. The danger to Merlin was higher than he’d ever expected. Keeping Merlin at a distance had truly been the only course to save him from Uther back then. If Merlin had gotten past the front door – Damn, he would have set off every detector Uther had collected in the time since the blackout.

“And how many sorcerers have this problem? How far do I need to stand from them so this thing doesn’t start glowing around my father?” Arthur asked.

Shaking his head slightly, Merlin said, “Not many. Like I said, most have to be within a few feet. Three or four at the most? It stretches farther if there’s a group standing together. As far as I know, I’m the only one in Albion that can be sensed from so far away.”

“Well, small comforts,” Arthur grumbled. Without thinking, he reached out and pulled Merlin in for a brief but tight hug. “You’re going to stress me out,” he said, then cleared his throat and started walking again. When he spoke, he kept his voice light and teasing. “But I guess that makes you even more special than before. Only one in Albion, huh? Such a boast.”

Merlin, blushing and stammering, followed after him.

For a second, Arthur glanced out at the parking lot. He couldn’t even say why. For that one second, he thought he recognized his father’s car driving amongst the parked cars. In the next second, Gwaine was suddenly dragging Merlin and Arthur down in an awkward group hug and teasing them for walking so close together. And Arthur forgot about the car.

\--- --- ---

It had been nearly eleven years since Arthur had been inside Merlin’s house. He’d memorized the outside – every scuff in the paint, every knick in the wood. He knew the outside as well as he knew the inside of his own. The green paint was flakey, the white trim was dirty, and the garden out back was somehow pristine.

The house was smaller than the Pendragon house right next door, but standing on the porch, Arthur felt impossibly smaller. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and then knocked on the door. He adjusted the strap on his bag while he waited for an answer.

The door swung open to reveal an old man in a loose blue shirt over worn pants, stained from years of yard work. His hair was long and white and receding, but Arthur kept any comments about it to himself. The old man smiled at him, and from older people that normally that meant Arthur was about to get a hug he didn’t want, but Gaius wasn’t most older people. He linked his hands behind his back instead and looked Arthur over from head to toe.

“Well. It _has_ been a long time since I’ve seen you on my front porch,” the old man said in greeting. “When Merlin said you were coming over, I honestly didn’t know if I believed him.”

“Hello, Gaius,” Arthur greeted and bowed his head a little in respect. “I already talked it out with Merlin, but I wanted to apologize to you as well. I wasn’t kind to either of you at a really hard time. It’s a lot to explain, but I hope you can forgive me.”

Merlin stumbled down the stairs behind Gaius at that moment, and Arthur couldn’t help the smile that cracked his face. His best friend was still such a klutz sometimes. Gaius glanced behind him with a little suspicion, one eyebrow raised as if to ask Merlin if he was a fool, but then he returned his attention to Arthur.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Gaius said with a shake of his head. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, my boy, and I’m just happy you’re smiling again.”

“Sir?” Arthur asked, brow knitting.

“I may be old, Arthur, but I’m not blind. In ten years, I haven’t once seen you smile like you just did over that idiot.” He motioned behind himself and Merlin let out a scandalized “Hey!” before Gaius continued. “Whatever happened in the past, I know it wasn’t just us who suffered for it. I’m just glad those days are behind us.”

He placed a hand on Arthur’s arm and then beckoned him inside. It was a quaint house, and most of it hadn’t changed since they were kids. But there was always something different about a place you knew as a child when you saw it again as an adult. Arthur was much taller now, so everything seemed to have shrunk over the years. The chairs all looked like they were made for dolls, the stairs seemed too small for his feet, and the ceiling was much lower, but he knew it was all just his memory playing tricks on him.

He also understood a lot more, so he noticed things he’d previously overlooked. There were druid symbols on some of the furniture, and a plaque over the door was definitely related to witchcraft, though Arthur had always thought it was just a greeting to visitors when he was a kid. He also noticed how much less money had gone into this house compared to his own. Everything here was old and well used, while everything next door was brand new and pristine. Merlin probably wouldn’t recognize anything outside of Arthur’s room.

Merlin led Arthur upstairs and told him to set his stuff wherever he wanted to. Merlin’s room had changed more than anything else in the house. His bed was new, probably because Merlin was several feet taller than he used to be, and his walls were decorated in new posters and decorations. But it was still Merlin’s room.

Arthur smiled a little as he looked around. He dropped his bag by the window seat and then shut the blinds.

“Everything okay?” Merlin asked, turning his lamp to a higher setting to compensate the loss of the natural lighting.

“Yeah. I just know my father has a habit of going in my room when I’m not home, and I don’t want to look up and see him staring at me.” Arthur cleared his throat. “Anyway, we’re here to study. Finals are next week and I haven’t studied enough. The centennial planning has taken over and I completely forgot about finals week.”

Merlin laughed at him, but it didn’t set off Arthur’s defenses. It felt like Merlin was laughing _with_ him, not _at_ him. Together they sat on the floor and pulled out books. They took turns quizzing each other for different classes. Merlin held Arthur’s textbook or notes and made questions out of them, and then Arthur would grab the practice tests sent home by Merlin’s journalism professor and quiz Merlin based on those. When Merlin asked the questions, Arthur didn’t find them difficult or annoying, but he knew he’d struggle on the actual test. His professors always made him feel like an idiot, somehow.

After they covered two classes each, Merlin handed Arthur back his notebook and started flipping through one of his own. “So finals week ends with the Centennial Gala,” he said.

“Yep. No rest for the wicked. Me and my three other council members are required to attend so people can ask us questions,” Arthur said with a sigh and stuffed his notebook back in his bag.

“You’ve planned everything about the gala down to the smallest detail. So you have a planned date?” Merlin set his own schoolwork aside and leaned back against his bed.

With a small sigh, Arthur shook his head. He’d had dreams about his date to the gala, but in real life… “No date,” he said. “I suppose I’ll ask Morgana if she doesn’t have a date by then. She’s always good at these peacocking events. But then, she may have a date already. In which case, I'll be on my own.”  
  
Merlin shrugged. “Or we could... I mean, I know I'm not as familiar as Morgana at schmoozing, but I'd go with you.”  
  
“Really?” Excitement bubbled in Arthur’s chest, but he did his best not to let it show in case he was somehow misreading the conversation.  
  
“Of course.” Merlin shrugged again, but then he smiled and Arthur felt his whole chest relax. “You're never alone, Arthur, not when you have me.”  
  
It was like all of Arthur’s dreams. He and Merlin could go to the gala together, and Merlin would keep Arthur sane through the whole ordeal. If Arthur’s courage held out, he’d kiss Merlin at the gala and they could start dating. Except Arthur could never bring Merlin home. It would be like being attached to a rubber band, constantly trying to stay away from home and never actually able to leave.   
  
“No,” Arthur said, frowning. He looked away from Merlin so he wouldn’t have to see the disappointment. “No, I don’t think that's a good plan.”  
  
Without looking, he could still hear the sadness in Merlin’s voice. “Why not?”

“Because - Because it doesn't end well, Merlin. I've come to terms with my lot in life. I know the plan I have to follow.” He’d gone over the facts enough times since he was a kid, even before he’d realized Merlin was magic, and he knew there was only one way his life was going to go. But even so, he could explain it to Merlin. Finally. Finally he didn’t have to lie and hide from Merlin, so he would tell him everything. “I've... I've been in love with you since I was twelve years old, Merlin, but it doesn't matter.”  
  
Merlin’s voice cracked. “You- w-why doesn't it matter?”  
  
Arthur looked back at him and took in his wide eyes and his pale cheeks dusted red. He was beautiful, and Arthur loved him, but it wasn’t enough.

“Because I can't leave my father. If I gave in to every wanton wish –“ He shook his head. “Merlin, my father is a powerful man with a wild obsession. I’ve tried to curb him my whole life, but it will only take one mishap for the whole world to know what he does in his spare time. And even if the world doesn’t know, it doesn’t change what my father has devoted his life to. His goal is to find and eradicate sorcerers, and it doesn’t deter him at all that he hasn’t found any in twenty years. You see? If I left home, there would be no one to stop my father, to distract him from the people he wants to harm. He’d blame magic for losing me too, and then he’d use all of his trinkets to find your people, and I wouldn’t be there to stop him.”

Arthur sighed. “If I left home, I might find happiness, but I can’t do that. I can’t let some unknown number of people die just so I could be happy. Despite what some people believe about me, I’m not actually that selfish.” He ran a hand through his hair and motioned lazily at Merlin. “Anyway it doesn't matter because you wouldn't want to run away with me anyway.”

“Says who?”

Arthur dropped his hand instantly and squinted at Merlin, as if that would help him understand what he’d heard better. “What?”

Merlin was smiling again, something soft and a little shy. “I've been watching you from my window for ten years, Arthur. Even after you cut me out, you always left your window open when you were home. It always gave me hope. Hope that you were still just across the yard, that you still wanted...” He swallowed and scooted a little closer to Arthur. Arthur felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. “And so I've watched you in glimpses. My uncle is right. Arthur, you have been denying yourself everything you wanted for twenty years. Even before you pulled away, you were never happy in your house. That's why you dragged me around the forest and the town. That's why I let you.” He was close enough to put his hand on Arthur’s knee. “Arthur, you cannot let your father rule your life. You don't have to be unhappy forever.”

“I don’t understand,” Arthur said, voice quieter than he intended. He felt like speaking too loud would break something, but he needed to know if the hope he felt was baseless.

“I’m saying, you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not anymore,” Merlin said. “At least, not with me. And no matter where you go, I’m going to be at your side, like I always was.”

“Merlin.” The name sounded too gentle somehow.

Then Merlin was leaning into Arthur’s space, between his knees, and kissing him, and it was better than any of Arthur’s dreams because it was real. The blonde slipped his arms around Merlin’s back and pulled him close, and they kissed and kissed, and Arthur felt like he could cry and laugh at the same time, though he did neither.

The sound of Arthur’s phone chiming broke them apart, but only just. Arthur’s arms were still in place, and he smiled at Merlin, fully intending to ignore his phone. Merlin looked a little stunned, which was funny since he’d been the one to start that little makeout session.

“You alright there, Merlin?” Arthur asked, his thumbs gently caressing Merlin’s lower back.

“Y-Yeah.” Merlin shook his head a little. “Just surprised, I guess. You confessed to loving me so easily. I guess part of me was still waiting for it to be a joke.”

“I’m not ashamed of my feelings for you, Merlin.” Arthur bumped their foreheads together. “Gay panic was not on my list of reasons for avoiding you. Homophobia may be on the list for why you never spend time around my father, though, on top of the other obvious issues, of course.”

“I don’t like your dad much either, so I’m okay with avoiding him forever.” Merlin tentatively kissed Arthur again. “Just don’t shut me out again.”

“Never again,” Arthur promised in a whisper between their lips.

His phone chimed again. It was his notification sound for when Morgana texted him. He sighed and reached over into his bag to retrieve the small device. If she was texting about school or some family dinner, he fully intended to chuck his phone back into his bag and leave her on ‘read’ for the next several hours. Arthur had Merlin in his arms, something he’d never thought was possible, and he wasn’t going to ruin it for some minor drama.

But when he saw the texts, he frowned.

“ _Are you at home? Where is Uther?_ ”

And

“ _Mordred is missing. I think something’s happened.”_

Arthur cursed under his breath. “I need to go home.”

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asked, leaning back and then getting to his feet. He was cute even when he was nervous.

Scowling, Arthur grabbed his bag and stood. “I think my father may have finally made good on his plan to find a sorcerer.”

\--- --- ---

The house was quiet when Arthur stepped inside, which wasn’t totally unnatural. The lady who cleaned the house and made dinner was usually gone by the time Arthur got home anyway, and his father only met him at the door a quarter of the time, and yet… The stillness was unsettling.

“Father?” he called out. “I’m home!”

Silence.

It was possible his father wasn’t home – after all, Arthur hadn’t checked the garage for cars – but he knew that wasn’t true. Uther worked short hours and was always home before Arthur. So Arthur carefully slipped his shoes off, set his bag down by the stairs, and began to pad around the downstairs rooms. He checked the kitchen and the dining room with no luck, so he had a pretty good idea where his father was waiting.

Arthur didn’t knock because the door was open. Inside his father’s study, the lights were bright and unforgiving, which was a major change from the usually cryptic and dark mood set by the lamps. His father sat at his desk, glowering.

“Father,” Arthur began, but Uther’s glare silenced him in an instant.

“Of all the people to betray my trust, I never expected it to be my own son.” He raised his eyes to look at Arthur, and there was no misunderstanding the loathing and disappointment in them.

“How have I betrayed you?” Arthur asked. He knew the answer, but he wasn’t about to admit to a crime he hadn’t been properly accused of.

“You have been hiding sorcerers from me,” Uther said, voice low and deadly. “You are colluding with these dangerous people. There is no worse betrayal.”

Arthur tried to play off the truth. “I’m not _colluding_ with anyone dangerous,” he said, stressing the word ‘colluding’ so his father knew how ridiculous he thought the word usage was.

But Uther was not distracted. He stood abruptly, his chair screeching back across the hardwood. “I saw you! Don’t lie to me anymore, Arthur! Damn it!”

He ran a hand over his tired face, and for the first time in Arthur’s memory his father looked old. Uther was angry and he was frustrated, but under it all Arthur saw the wrinkles and the gray hair, and he heard the sighing, and when had his father become old?

Voice quieter, but no less irate, Uther said, “I came by the campus for a meeting with Geoffrey. I saw you in The Park with the neighbor boy and Morgana and a sorcerer. You watched him touch your bracelet, and then you covered it up so no one would notice, so _I_ wouldn’t know. I hoped you would call me about the sorcerer, and yet you’ve been out all day without so much as a text. You have found a sorcerer, Arthur, perhaps more than one, and yet you chose not to tell me. What do you have to say for yourself?”

His father had been on campus and seen Mordred. Arthur clenched his hands into fists. “What did you do to him?”

“Don’t give me that look. How dare –!”

“What have you done, Father?” Arthur interrupted, his brow knitting further as he matched his father’s glare. “Did you hurt him? Is he still alive?”

“You don’t get to treat me like a murderer,” Uther said, although it sounded like a swear. “I’ve done what you were meant to do. That sorcerer is safely away from the public, where he can do no more harm. And he will stay there until I make sure he’ll never be a threat again.” He shook his head in anger and disappointment. “I thought you were ready to help me in this fight, but clearly I was wrong. I would never raise my hand against my own child, but don’t tempt my anger any further. Get out of my sight.”

“Father – ,” Arthur began, eager to press for more information.

“I said GET OUT!” Uther roared, hand flying out as though he could shove Arthur away.

Arthur was several feet too far to feel the push, but he stumbled back regardless. In his whole life, he’d never heard his father shout with such force, with such venom. After only a moment of stunned silence, Arthur spun and left the room.

He grabbed his bag from where he’d dropped it and then took the stairs two at a time. When he got to his room, he locked the door, but he knew it didn’t mean much. His father had a key somewhere. Heart hammering, he pulled out his phone and brought up a message to both Morgana and Merlin.

“We need to talk. Father has Mordred somewhere, and we need a plan.”

\--- --- ---

Normally Arthur was in The Office of University Events during his free time on campus. Anyone that knew him knew he was half chained to the computers in there, constantly writing up emails or meeting with his little counsel about the centennial.

But not anymore.

He still had centennial work to be done, but Arthur couldn’t sit within a hundred feet of Mr. Monmouth, not if he wanted to keep his sanity. So he texted his group for finalizing details. Gwen was texting photos of in-progress floats for the parade and everything was on schedule. She had fliers printed up for businesses on the parade route, with a website where people could pull up coupons for all the participating stores and see details about the parade, the centennial, and the school. Leon’s work with the art department was going well too. The memorial was abstract in design, but sort of resembled a dragon or maybe a phoenix or maybe Arthur was entirely missing the point. There were places for plaques around the base, where notable and famous alumni would have their names engraved. If a name was not already engraved, people could submit the name of someone they felt had been missed. It would look good at the head of The Park.

Lancelot was still sure Renegade Druid was coming and was making sure all their preferences were being prepped. Arthur hadn’t told anyone that Mordred was missing, and neither had anyone else, apparently. If they could rescue Mordred without incident, no one else knowing would be a blessing. They didn’t need the news finding out about sorcerers, about Merlin and Morgana or even Mordred. Arthur’s father was a danger, but there were others like him in the world, and if the news got wind of what Mordred’s disappearance was about? There would be even more Uther Pendragons in the world.

So Arthur, Merlin, and Morgana had taken up residence in one of the library’s soundproof study rooms. Morgana paced back and forth, quietly seething. Arthur stood by the white board, marker in hand, as if he were about to draw out a detailed plan on the board for any passerby to see. And Merlin sat at the table, eyes on the wood and looking annoyingly calm.

“He doesn’t have Mordred at the house. I checked last night,” Arthur said, tapping the marker against his palm. “And I find it highly unlikely that he’d take Mordred to his job.”

“Maybe I can cast a truth spell on him,” Morgana suggested. “Morgause is pretty good at them. She could make a potion that you could slip into his food. He’d never notice.”

Arthur shook his head. “He’d realize something was wrong as soon as I started asking questions. Also, we haven’t eaten dinner together in like a year. He’d be suspicious from the start if I tried it.”

Morgana paused in her pacing and squinted at him. Even Merlin twisted to stare at him. After a too long moment that made Arthur’s skin crawl, Morgana said, “That is so sad. Mom is going to insist on you coming to dinner every day when I tell her.” When he tried to argue, she bulldozed over him. “Arthur, I know you’re a self-sacrificing noble hero and all, but you haven’t had a family dinner in over a year? Mom won’t stand for that, and neither will I. And I’m sure Merlin will back me up. Right, Merlin?”

The siblings both turned their attention to Merlin, who pursed his lips together in response. Slowly, Merlin stood up and sighed. When he looked at Arthur, the blonde felt his whole world shake. Those blue eyes still made him feel endless somehow. Then Merlin shrugged and nodded, agreeing with Morgana, and Arthur pouted.

“Merlin,” he complained, slightly betrayed.

“My uncle won’t let you eat alone either, if it makes you feel better.” Merlin glanced at Morgana for assurance and then stepped closer to Arthur. He always demanded Arthur’s attention without trying, but now Arthur only had eyes for him. Morgana might as well have left the room. “I think we’re all just tired of watching you pretend everything is fine in your life, and we want to help make it better. You’ve accepted a standard of living that doesn’t measure up to what you deserve – what anyone deserves – and it’s time you let yourself move on and want more. For now, we’re just asking you to accept the love of a family dinner a few times a week.”

He gently touched Arthur’s hand, and the blond let his shoulders sag. “Yes, alright. Fine.”

From the other side of the table, Morgana groaned and rolled her eyes. “I know I started that detour, but stop gazing into each other’s eyes. We have to find Mordred.”

Merlin didn’t even look at her, just smiled at Arthur like he’d won a small victory. “I know where he is,” he said, calm as ever.

“What?” Arthur jolted from his Merlin-obsessed trance. “Where?”

Merlin ducked his head bashfully but kept his hand on Arthur’s. “Mr. Monmouth has him. It’s… hard to explain how I know that. As soon as you told me Mordred was missing, I tried to sense where he was. I thought, if he was in your house at all, that I would be able to pick him up right away. I didn’t, of course, but my mind’s been half on him ever since and –“

Morgana’s face was all awe and admiration. “You saw Mr. Monmouth on your way here?” Mouth pressed into a tight line, Merlin nodded. “And you – You could sense Mordred’s magic on him? Merlin, that’s incredible. That’s… impossible.”

He shook his head. “Not if Mordred wants to be found. However he’s being restrained, he was able to send out a – a kind of S.O.S.” He looked back at Arthur with an apologetic expression. “It’s hard to explain. Um. Magic is in us but it’s also… kind of alive? Mordred might not even know he did it. It’s instinctual to ask for help, and his magic is clinging to whatever it can, trying to find that help.”

“And it found you.” Morgana stepped up and pulled him into a tight hug. “We have a starting point. It’s so much better than what we had before. Thank you.” She pulled back, her expression dark and serious. “Now we just had to come up with a rescue plan.”

\--- --- ---

If you were to ask Arthur, he’d say the living room was more decoration than relaxation. In twenty-four years, he couldn’t remember ever doing anything in that room except… sit. Not read or play on his phone or even talk. He remembered his father sitting in the arm chair, glasses perched on his nose as he scowled down at some business documents on his e-reader, and he remembered trying to scoot closer and closer, to feel like he was also a big businessman with important business things to do. Most of all, he remembered how his father had glanced up from the report to smile at him… before going back to the report without a word.

The living room was the first thing anyone saw when they walked into the house, and it was pristine. Straight from a magazine. Untouched.

So it felt wrong to be lounging on the sofa, book in hand and pretending to read. It was wrong, but Arthur did it anyway.

An hour of sitting finally gave Arthur what he was waiting for. His father appeared, dressed for public and not the office, and headed for the door. He probably had no intention of stopping on his way, but the sight of Arthur sitting in the living room was probably as foreign and wrong to the eye as it felt to Arthur’s entire body.

Uther glanced around the room, as though he had somehow forgotten which room he was in completely, before he focused on Arthur again. “What are you doing?”

“Reading,” Arthur said monotonously. He lowered the book a little to get a glance at his father, who looked like that answer had only compounded his confusion and suspicion. With a dramatic sigh, Arthur closed his book and rose to his feet. “That’s a lie. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Arthur, I’m not in the mood to argue,” Uther said gruffly. “I’m in a hurry.”

“Good, because I’m in no mood to argue either.” Arthur dropped his book on the sofa and took several steps closer to his father. “I wanted to apologize. I let my emotions get the better of me. I let college cloud my judgment. I’ve been… stressed. What I’m trying to say is that I’m ready.” He held his wrist up, where the red jewel still sat but was no longer covered. “I want to help with this sorcerer. With all of them. I shouldn’t have accused you like I did. We’re family, and I’m ready to do my part.”

He could tell he’d broken through halfway through his speech, but he finished all the same. Uther’s tense expression turned fond at the word ‘family’, and it made Arthur’s chest ache. His father closed the distance between them and placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“I believe your heart is in the right place, Arthur,” he said. “And I want you at my side, I do. Nothing would make me happier. But not this time.” He frowned with real sadness. “This sorcerer blinded you once already. I cannot risk losing you again. So I want you to stay home, and I’ll deal with this sorcerer on my own.”

“Father –,” Arthur contested, but Uther shook his head and just pat him on the shoulder again.

“Next time, Arthur. I promise. It’ll be you and me together.” He brought his other hand up to cup Arthur’s face and smiled at him so proudly that it made Arthur shiver. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me. I love you, Arthur.”

“I love you too, Father,” Arthur murmured.

Uther pulled him in for a hug, which was almost as strange as sitting in the living room. The embrace was quick but tight, and when he pulled back, Uther’s eyes were growing misty. He cleared his throat and nodded toward the front door.

“Well, I’m off. I don’t know how late I’ll be, so don’t wait up.” And then he was out the door.

Arthur took five seconds to breathe and listen to his father get into his car.

Maybe Morgana and Merlin were right. That interaction had been more emotional and involved more touching that any conversation Arthur could remember sharing with his father since he was extremely young. He felt a little misty-eyed himself when he considered that it had only occurred because Arthur had lied even more than normal.

As soon as he heard the car door shut, Arthur pulled his phone out. It rang only once before the ringing was cut off.

“He’s in the car and headed for Mordred,” he said. “Tell me you’re there.”

First he heard a scoff and then Morgana said, “I can’t believe you’re doubting me. This was my plan.”

Arthur’s brow knit. “It –“

“Thanks, Morgana. Bye!” Merlin said loudly, appearing beside Arthur and ending the call before a fight could break out. He slipped his hand down into Arthur’s and began tugging him toward the front door. “Come on.”

“How long were you there?” Arthur asked and let himself be dragged outside. He locked the front door and then hurried to his car with Merlin slipping around to the passenger seat. Arthur took off the red stone bracelet and dropped it into his arm rest, blocking it from sight.

“I slipped in when your father left. And see? No magic alarms went off.” Merlin tapped the dashboard. “Let’s go.”

“We really need to discuss your reckless personality,” Arthur said with a groan, but he pulled away from the curb and started following his father’s car through the dark city streets. “And this was _my_ plan.”

Merlin sighed loudly before muttering, “Children, the lot of them.”

“What was that?” Arthur asked even though he’d heard perfectly.

“I said, you’re losing him,” Merlin lied and motioned vaguely forward to where Uther had turned onto a new street.

With a snort, Arthur shook his head. “I know where we’re going, Merlin. It doesn’t matter if we lose him. Calm down.”

It was true, after all. Arthur did know where they were going. He’d been to Mr. Monmouth’s house before. Arguably, it had been years and it had only been once, but Arthur still knew where it was. It also helped that he had access to faculty documents in the university office and could double check the address.

Morgana’s brilliant plan was to give their father some kind of magical concussion. She knew some spell that would erase Uther’s memories of magic, and it sounded decent on paper but then she’d admitted it was Big Magic and she couldn’t guarantee she’d do it right. Possible side effects of doing it wrong included leaving Uther as a vegetable or completely dead. Arthur liked the idea of his father no longer knowing about magic, but he also didn’t want his father to die. The man was a hard-love kind of parent, but he was still Arthur’s father and he still loved him.

Rescuing Mordred was their top priority. Dealing with Uther Pendragon was secondary. Arthur had sent Morgana ahead to scope out the house, see if she could find out where in the house Mordred was being held. She’d also mentioned checking if she could place any spells around the house, but Arthur warned her not to go overboard.

When he pulled onto Mr. Monmouth’s street, Arthur made sure his headlights were off. Even in the darkness, he could see his father’s car parked across from the house. Arthur stopped his car on the corner, four houses down, because his father would absolutely recognize his car if he parked any closer.

The engine died, but Arthur didn’t move to get out. He saw his father knocking on the front door. He saw Mr. Monmouth open the door and invite him in. He saw the door close resolutely behind them. Arthur didn’t move. He took a deep breath and held it.

He’d lived his whole life hoping this moment would never come – that he could foil any attempts his father had at finding a sorcerer forever and no one would get hurt. He’d failed. He’d let himself be happy with Merlin, started opening himself up to learning about magic, and he’d gotten someone captured. He should have warned Mordred. He should have taken it seriously when he thought he saw his father’s car in the parking lot. He should have –

“This isn’t your fault,” Merlin said, slipping a hand over Arthur’s on the gear shift. His thumb slowly caressed the skin there. “I can see you’re scared. I am too. But you’re not alone in this. Your plan is going to work, and everything will be alright.”

Arthur laughed softly, sourly, but he turned his hand over to hold Merlin’s. “You always sound so sure of everything.” He looked away from the house and into Merlin’s eyes, so blue even in the dark of the growing night. Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hand and nodded. “I’m going to borrow some of that courage, Merlin.”

They stepped out of the car and jogged their way down the street. As they approached the house, they spotted Morgana crouching around the back. She waved them over and they leaned against the house in silence. They could hear talking inside, but the words were unintelligible through the walls and windows.

“Mordred is in the basement,” Morgana explained. “Monmouth has gone down three times in two hours, once with food, and I don’t see Mordred in any of the other windows.”

“I assume there’s a back door,” Arthur said. His father was in the entry way with Monmouth, but they were slowly moving through the house.

Morgana nodded. “The danger is that the house might be as old as Mr. Monmouth. I think the hinges are going to give us away.”

Beside them, Merlin pursed his lips. He shuffled away toward the back door and Arthur only called out a quiet, panicked “Merlin!” before he was out of sight. Keeping an ear on where his father was, Arthur followed after Merlin. The house was rather large, absolutely purchased long before the price of housing became wildly unaffordable, and honestly one old man did not need this much space. But it could make it easier to get around without being noticed.

“What are you thinking?” Morgana asked when they caught up.

Merlin was kneeling by the back door, his fingertips resting on the old hinges. “Restoration,” he whispered. He turned and a language Arthur didn’t know came out of his mouth.

Morgana’s eyes narrowed curiously. “Isn’t that a healing spell?”

“The principle is the same, isn’t it? The house is old. It needs healing.” Merlin gave a little smile, like he knew how his idea sounded – a little ridiculous.

“I think you’re bending the rules to be poetic,” Morgana warned.

Merlin smiled, and it was so tender that Arthur almost lost his breath. “Magic likes to be bent sometimes.” He turned back to the door. “I can do this.”

“You can do this,” Arthur agreed, and Merlin’s tense shoulders dropped in surprise. His smile nearly touched his eyes. For a moment, Arthur wanted to forget the plan and just watch Merlin smile, but they didn’t have the time. He gave Merlin a confident nod and then backed up to give him space.

Arthur felt useless, standing to the side, but there was honestly nothing he could do about rusty door hinges. Morgana placed her hand on Merlin’s back and took a deep breath. As she exhaled, Merlin touched the bottom hinge again. His eyes closed and his lips parted, formed words without sound, and a spark flared where his fingers touched the metal.

The hinge, rusted and dirty, flaked and came away clean. Not just the hinge either. The whole door lost layers of grime and years of wear. If doors could de-age, that’s what was happening. When Morgana gasped, Arthur felt less idiotic for his own awe. He’d never seen magic used like that. He hadn’t even known it was possible.

When Arthur looked away from the door and back at Merlin, he did let out a small gasp. Merlin’s eyes were sliding back open, and Arthur could see them shining bright in the darkness – gold and brilliant. As the magic completed its run, Merlin’s eyes faded back to blue and were hidden by the night, but Arthur was struck dumb by the memory of their glow.

“That was brilliant,” Morgana said. “I’m going to pretend I’m not jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Arthur muttered dumbly. His voice was thick and he swallowed down the saliva that was suddenly becoming a problem.

Oh hell. What an inopportune moment to remember that Merlin performing magic was a kink for him. He’d seen Merlin move lettuce into a trashcan and move papers around. He’d seen small stuff. But the delicate way Merlin had touched that hinge, had drawn on the magic so softly that he hadn’t even actually spoken, had let the magic flow through him and into the wood – it was different. And Arthur’s entire body reacted.

“You’re disgusting,” Morgana muttered, nose wrinkling as if she could read his thoughts. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Right.” The plan. He had a plan.

He made to stand up, but Merlin grabbed hold of his wrist and held him in place. The pale sorcerer’s cheeks were darker, blushing?, but he looked Arthur straight in the face when he said, “Be careful.”

“Always,” Arthur promised.

Merlin released him and he quickly moved away and around the house. The voices inside were soft but still consistent. They hadn’t noticed the door becoming like new. The fixed hinges would make a world of difference for Morgana and Merlin’s part in the rescue. They had to go into the basement, fix whatever was wrong with Mordred, and get him out again. Arthur had the easier job, arguably.

He was the distraction.

He knocked on the front door, ignoring the pounding of his heart. The talking inside ceased.

Arthur knocked again.

After several long moments, Mr. Monmouth opened the door. He frowned down his nose and his eyes squinted suspiciously. “Mr. Pendragon. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Arthur?” His father appeared at Mr. Monmouth’s side, confusion just as evident on his face. “I told you to stay at home.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” Arthur pointedly didn’t try to glance past them for a glimpse of the back door or wherever the basement door is. He kept his eyes on his father.

Uther sighed and ran a hand back over his graying hair. “Did you follow me?”

“No. I used a locator spell and teleported here.” He let the joke land like a lead balloon, watched the tension flit through both men in front of him, before he crossed his arms. “Yes, I followed you here. In my car. Like a normal person.”

Uther let out a heavy cough. “Now really isn’t the time for inappropriate jokes, Arthur,” he said. But then his face regained some of the pride he’d shown earlier. “But maybe you have a point. Perhaps it _is_ time to bring you on board.”

“Uther, are you sure about this? We haven’t caught a sorcerer in over twenty years. Perhaps it would be better to leave someone new out of the equation,” Mr. Monmouth counseled in his tired old voice.

“Nonsense, Geoffrey.” Uther turned away from Arthur, and Arthur let his eyes dart around the visible room behind them. He couldn’t see the back door or any obvious basement entrances. “We aren’t getting any younger, my friend. If this enterprise is to continue after we’re gone, we must show others how its done. As you said, it takes far too long to find these sorcerers. The next time we find one might be when we’re too old to do anything about it. Arthur can take over for us then.”

Arthur held his tongue about Mr. Monmouth already being too old to do anything. The old man considered Arthur disapprovingly for a long moment, and Arthur stood tall under his scrutiny. Finally, the old man opened his mouth to agree – Arthur could tell in the sag of his shoulders and the relaxing of his mouth – but before he could say a word, a noise sounded behind them.

A scream might be a better description – short but loud. Arthur didn’t know Mordred well, but he recognized his voice instantly. Part of him felt sick from the sound, and part of him felt relieved that it wasn’t Merlin’s voice instead.

Uther and Mr. Monmouth exchanged a look before Mr. Monmouth turned and moved further into the house. Arthur finally crossed the threshold into the entryway and followed with his father.

“Something’s wrong,” Mr. Monmouth said like a curse. “He should be gagged.”

It wasn’t just a joke that Mr. Monmouth was slow. He really was incredibly slow moving. For once, Arthur was grateful for it. However, his father was not so decrepit. He moved past Mr. Monmouth swiftly and headed for a door near the back of the house.

“Hang on,” Arthur called out, trying to delay him, but Uther didn’t hesitate. “Father, tell me what’s happening.”

Uther’s expression flared with rage when he spotted the basement door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open so hard it bounced back off the wall, and Arthur had to catch it from closing again so he could follow his father down the stairs. His heart felt like it was in his throat. Shit. This was the opposite of good. This was the worst possible scenario.

The basement was dim but it didn’t take Arthur’s eyes long to adjust. Near the base of the stairs was the usual junk Arthur expected in a basement – boxes of old, dusty, mundane crap like outdated electronics and disused file cabinets – but a few steps past that was an entirely different story. Antique weaponry was displayed along one wall – swords and spears and javelins to name the obvious ones – and then there was a case filled with many items Arthur recognized from his father’s collection of magical artifacts. They weren’t exactly the same but they seemed to be of the same category.

The most incriminating part of the basement was the cage. There was a metal cage, as if for a large dog, anchored into the far wall. An old rug was laid out inside, but it was the only minor comfort given to the boy inside. Mordred was sitting on the rug, his wrists handcuffed together and a glowing bangle on his ankle. Arthur recognized that too. It was engraved gold and designed to weaken the wearer.

Merlin and Morgana weren’t in sight, but Mordred’s eyes darted back and forth too obviously. Arthur swallowed down his panic. They were invisible. He hoped they could stay that way.

Uther stormed over until he stood in front of the cage. The door was pushed closed, but the lock had not been replaced, and he noticed it immediately. He cast his eyes around carefully, taking everything in. Mordred, though he had no gag on, remained silent and watched Uther carefully.

“Father,” Arthur began, but Uther held his hand up to silence him.

He continued to stare, eyes low on the ground. Arthur saw no one, but his father’s body tensed like a spring. Then his hand shot out to the side and grabbed hold of the air. A choked noise came from nowhere.

“Show yourself,” Uther growled.

Between one blink and the next, Arthur saw them both. Merlin was behind Uther, safe, but Morgana was beside him with his hand around her neck. The sight of his daughter stunned Uther, his eyes going wide and fearful, but his grip barely relaxed.

“I knew it,” he said in a breath. “That _woman_ turned you into one of them.”

“Father, stop,” Arthur begged, stepping up behind Morgana and trying to catch his father’s eye. “It’s Morgana. Didn’t you say you’d never raise your hand to your own children?”

“She may share your blood, Arthur, but she is not your sister. She’s a witch. She cast us off to betray us and join her mother.” Uther’s grip tightened on Morgana’s throat and she gasped and clawed at his hand. “I always suspected Vivienne was a sorcerer. Now I have the proof.”

Arthur heard the unsaid threat. Uther was going to go after Vivienne and Morgause next. Right after he dealt with Morgana. And the way it looked, he intended to kill her. Arthur grit his teeth and hurried to shove his father away. Uther stumbled back against the cage, his hand falling from Morgana’s throat to catch himself.

Merlin rushed to her side as she fell to her knees and caught her breath. The movement caught Uther’s eye and he saw Merlin for the first time. Arthur stood resolutely between his father and the two sorcerers and didn’t flinch when his father’s anger was redirected at him once again.

“I see now,” Uther mumbled. “First you betray me and then you lie to my face, and for what? Who turned you first? Was it your sister or the neighbor? How long have you been plotting against me? Since you used to run off into the forests with _that one_? Or was it a recent change of heart?”

“I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt,” Arthur said. “But I won’t hesitate to use force if you continue to try and hurt these people. They haven’t done anything wrong.”

“They killed your mother!” Uther shouted.

“ _You_ killed my mother!” Arthur shouted right back and felt the bitter taste of tears on his tongue.

All the dark and twisted feelings he’d been bottling up his whole life felt like they wanted to burst. All of his anger about having to lie to his friends, to hide who he was and how he was feeling, to push away the first and only person he’d ever truly loved even though it hurt so bad he wanted to die – he felt all of it bubbling over with that one truth. This singular lie his father told himself about the cause of his wife’s death was the crux of all of Arthur’s pain. It was the lie that held his father’s ridiculous obsession together and forced Arthur into a cage inside his own house. Arthur was so sick of it, of all of it.

He motioned wide to indicate Morgana. “You killed her when you fathered Morgana with another woman! You killed her when you didn’t love her! That wasn’t magic’s fault. That was yours. But even if it was a plot by some unknown sorcerer, these three right here had nothing to do with it. You plan to eradicate an entire group of people because of the misdeeds of one? That doesn’t bring justice. That only makes you the biggest hypocrite in the room.”

“Magic is _dangerous_ , Arthur,” Uther implored, pushing off from the cage. Arthur took a step back, but not out of fear. He just didn’t want to be near his father. “Look at how it’s already hurt _you_.”

“Magic hasn’t hurt me, Father,” Arthur argued. “That was all you too.” Uther’s expression faltered into sadness, and Arthur’s voice became soft with guilt. “And I am so tired of pretending that our home is somehow perfect because it’s not. I want to leave, but I can’t just let you prey on innocent people.”

“Arthur –,” Uther began but hesitated. He glanced behind Arthur at his daughter and Merlin then he turned to look at Mordred, still petrified and watching from the cage.

Mr. Monmouth finally made it down the stairs, panting slightly. “Uther, don’t let these children break your determination.” He snatched up one of the old swords and aimed it at the group. It looked comical in his hands, but no one laughed. It was still a weapon.

From her place on the ground, Morgana threw out her hand and hissed out a phrase in that language Arthur didn’t know – the language of magic. The sword flew from Mr. Monmouth’s grip and he was shoved back against the stone wall and held there. Uther’s eyes flew open wide. He darted forward, swooping Arthur away and behind him as if to protect him, and then he was lunging for Morgana like a madman.

Arthur shouted, but his father did not hear him. He had Morgana’s wrist in a death grip, which broke whatever spell was holding Mr. Monmouth to the wall, but then Merlin was elbowing him in the chest and ripping Morgana away from him. He hefted Morgana up until she got her feet under her, and together they backed away. Arthur could see the indecision on their faces. They knew Arthur didn’t want his father hurt, but they didn’t know how to escape otherwise.

The plan had been for Arthur to be a distraction. He opened the cage door and quickly ripped the bangle from Mordred’s ankle. Mordred screamed, just like what had drawn them all downstairs. The bangle had left a burn mark on his skin, but it wouldn’t drain his life away anymore. Arthur locked eyes with Mordred and tried to apologize for the pain without words.

Hands grabbed Arthur by the shoulder and wrenched him up and away. When he was back on his feet, the hands turned him around. Arthur had enough time to recognize his father as the one manhandling him before the smack caught him across the face and sent him stumbling away.

“Foolish boy!” Uther shouted. Despite the presence of three sorcerers, he only had eyes for Arthur. Good. He was distracted by his sense of betrayal, and that was fine. He’d been betraying Arthur for years.

“Run!” Arthur ordered.

Mordred stood and tried to rush behind Uther, but the man spun and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. Before he could do more than latch on, Arthur was there, breaking his grip and shoving Mordred toward the exit. Uther tried to move around Arthur, but Arthur matched him step for step.

“I’m not letting you hurt anyone,” Arthur repeated.

Mr. Monmouth was on his feet when Mordred got to the base of the stairs, and he tried to grab the teen too. This time it was Morgana who stopped him, repeating the same spell as before. She pinned him and pulled Merlin along behind her as they followed after Mordred.

“Wait. What about Arthur?” Merlin asked, wrenching free just as his foot hit the first step.

“He won’t hurt me, Merlin,” Arthur said, ignoring the throbbing in his cheek from the slap that clearly proved otherwise.

“Don’t worry, boy,” Uther growled. “I know where to find you when this is over.”

Arthur turned his head, ready to argue with Merlin about self-preservation or something, but he didn’t have the chance. His father rushed forward, trying to escape past Arthur, and it worked. Arthur could only grasp at the back of his father’s shirt and delay him. Uther reached back and caught Arthur around the wrist, prying his fingers off, and twisted him around in front. He held Arthur tight, with a strength Arthur hadn’t known he had, and then shoved him out of the way. Arthur stumbled back, lost his balance, and crashed into the display holder against the wall. It was crushed under his weight, and he fell to the floor.

He gasped and it hurt. He gasped and felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Arthur!”

He didn’t know who shouted louder, his father or Merlin. His mind was distracted anyway. When he looked down at himself to find the source of his pain, he gasped all over again. One of the antique swords was sticking out through his side. Oh god, he’d been impaled! He’d been–! He’d been–!

“Mer–” He didn’t get the name out.

His father was there, kneeling at his side, one hand on his face and the other on his wound. Blood was oozing around the blade. Arthur could feel every ounce as it vacated his body.

“My son,” Uther sobbed. “Oh God, what have I done? Oh God!”

Arthur’s chest heaved but he still felt breathless. Pain ached out from the side of his torso until he could focus on nothing else. Had he been stabbed once or ten times? Would he even notice the difference? He could feel his father’s tears splashing down on his face, and he knew he wouldn’t make it to the hospital. This wasn’t how he expected to die, and he definitely didn’t want to die at all, but at least he’d gotten the others out safely. Right?

“Mer-lin,” Arthur gasped.

Uther’s brow knit tight, but before he could say anything, he was flung back away from Arthur. Like magic, Merlin was there. Or had he never left? He stood over Arthur like a protector and raised his hands toward Uther’s slumped body. As Uther tried to regain his footing, Merlin’s voice rushed out, spewing those magic words too fast to make out. His eyes flashed dangerously golden and mist dashed from his fingertips to Uther. It enveloped him loosely, then opaquely, and then appeared to be absorbed into his body. When the fog was gone, Uther let out a heavy breath and collapsed to the concrete floor.

All the while, Arthur felt more and more lightheaded. He blinked and each consecutive time felt like it took more effort. Damn it. He grit his teeth and tried to move, but pain rocketed through him and sent him gasping back to his starting position.

“Don’t move, idiot,” Merlin hissed and dropped down beside him. There were tears in his eyes and running down his cheeks.

Arthur reached out and brushed some away, but he accidentally left blood in their place. “S-Sorry,” he wheezed. For the tears or the blood, he wasn’t sure.

“Morgana!” Merlin shouted but never took his eyes from Arthur. “Help me!”

His sister appeared on the stairs again, Mr. Monmouth nowhere in view. Arthur briefly wondered what they’d done with him, but he was also dying so he found he didn’t care. Morgana gasped when she saw him and hurried the last few steps to his other side.

“We have to take it out,” Merlin said, voice thick. Arthur wanted to tell him not to cry but speaking sounded like a lot of effort.

“He’ll bleed out,” Morgana warned. “It’s probably hit his spleen or something. I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. Jesus, Arthur. Just hold on!”

“Morgana,” Merlin stressed loudly to get her attention. “I need your help. We can heal him. Together, we can do this, but not with it still in there.” He put a hand on her shoulder to focus them both. Arthur’s mind was mostly on the hand Merlin had on his side, near the wound. It felt hot. “I’ll start my spell, then you pull out the sword, and then we can heal him from both sides. Okay?”

Arthur’s vision was going a little fuzzy but he saw her expression harden into determination, the kind of look that reminded Arthur she was a Pendragon just like him. The two sorcerers rolled Arthur onto his uninjured side, facing Merlin, and he groaned as it jostled the metal inside him.

“I’m sorry. This is going to hurt,” Merlin warned, but his voice was starting to sound far away.

“L-Love –,” Arthur tried, but his words wouldn’t come, and even that one was slurred. He just wanted to tell Merlin that he loved him one more time, just in case the magic didn’t work. Oh well.

Merlin shook his head. “Later,” he said, then focused his attention on the sword protruding through Arthur’s torso. His eyes flashed golden, and Arthur sighed. He never wanted to get used to that sight. Merlin’s mouth moved, but Arthur didn’t understand what he was saying. It was too quiet. The whole world was muffled.

Pain shot through him as the sword was ripped out, and he clung to Merlin’s arm for support. White dots sparked across his vision, and then his eyes rolled back, and he passed out.

\--- --- ---

Childhood had a way of blurring together. Until maturity came and made everything stick, it was easy to forget specifics or even entire events. Emotions remained, but timelines weren’t reliable. The haze of a happy childhood. The shadow of a sad one.

For Arthur Pendragon, his mother hung as the shadow over his childhood. He’d never met her, but every distant reaction of his father and every horrible thing he said or suggested was overcast by her ghost. He didn’t love his mother until he was eight years-old, when the neighbor’s mother came to his birthday party, sat him down, and told him stories about her. The stories were mundane – about grocery shopping and going to church and helping the neighbor in the garden – but Arthur had never heard of his mother like that. From his father’s memory, stories were always diverted to the dangers of sirens and witches or lost to grief. His mother was a phantom of pain who didn’t do things like shopping and weeding. But from Hunith Emrys, his mother became real.

Arthur came to love his mother away from his father, and by ten he knew the truth about her death and all the messy emotional ties it contained. Perhaps he started to hate his father then too, but he’d taken so long to admit to such an ugly feeling that it was hard to pinpoint its origin.

Meeting Merlin was not a universe stopping moment, despite what novels always claimed. They were three when it happened. As far as Arthur remembered, Merlin had just always been there, right across the yard. Him and his loving mother and his lazy-eyed uncle. Even before Arthur knew that he was unhappy, he used to watch them through windows and dream about their life. And wasn’t it wonderful that he could step inside that home whenever he wanted?

He fell in love with Merlin the right way. Before puberty, he didn’t know what that meant – to love someone with his whole being. The world was new and exciting, and he just knew he wanted to experience it with his best friend by his side forever. They’d make kingdoms in the forest and conquer school together. The looming fear of middle school and the distant terror of high school and the even more vague disaster that would be college – they would face it with courage because they’d get through it together. Arthur had never imagined a world where he didn’t have Merlin.

Until the day he realized he had to push Merlin away. Until the day he buried his head under the pillows to ignore the sound of Merlin’s desperate calls in the yard, until he pretended Merlin meant nothing to him in front of some friends at their new school, until he saw Merlin give up on him. He knew he’d be alone forever once he noticed Merlin finally stop trying to catch his eye in the lunchroom.

For days, he’d cried whenever he was alone.

Childhood is meant to be hazy, but for ten years, Arthur felt like his adolescence was the part of him that rushed by in a repetitive blur.

Meeting Merlin all over again – now that was universe stopping. The moment in Merlin’s bedroom, when Merlin had crawled into his space and kissed him for the first time – that was engrained in Arthur’s memory forever. He wanted more lazy memories like that, more moments where they could talk, and they could touch, and no one would judge them for it. Least of all his father.

His father. His lying, distant, obsessive father. His angry father, who had thrown him aside like a misbehaving puppy. His father, who had sent him crashing into the sword display and then wept over his bleeding body.

Arthur woke with a start, sucking air in sharply through his nose. Panic had drawn him from sleep – panic over his father and the fight and if his friends were okay – but the feeling died away quickly. He was not in a basement or even a hospital. He was lying in a bed with old oak bedposts and a thick old quilt.

Though Arthur had never been in this bedroom before, he easily recognized the house by its rafters and antique design. If he was in the Le Fay house, then everyone was likely alive and well. He let out a relieved sigh and let his eyes close again.

His brow knit. Not everyone had made it out of Mr. Monmouth’s house alright. Mordred had been badly burned by the bangle and Arthur had been impaled. Slowly, he ran his hand down his chest and over his side where he knew he’d had a sword protruding before. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t even twinge. Arthur opened his eyes, pushed aside the quilt, and lifted the shirt he was wearing. There was no wound.

Whose shirt was he wearing? He stared down at the t-shirt, definitely not the one he’d put on that afternoon, and tried to remember if he’d ever seen Merlin wearing it. No, but he did recognize it. With some surprise he realized it must belong to Morgana. She wore large shirts when relaxing at home, and he’d seen her in this once before, in a photograph. It was a bit horrifying to be wearing his sister’s clothes, but at least it wasn’t tapered at the waist. It also wasn’t obvious he was wearing women’s clothes because the shirt’s design was ambiguous. It had probably been the only thing in the house that fit him.

Arthur carefully pushed himself up, still worried about pain, but again nothing hurt. Vaguely he recalled plans for a healing spell. He touched his side again and wondered at the power of magic. He’d be dead without it.

No sooner had his feet hit the rug than the bedroom door opened. He’d hoped for Merlin, or at least Morgana, but it was Morgause standing in the doorway. Her piercing eyes locked on him immediately, and for several long moments she said nothing.

“Well,” she finally said, relaxing her shoulders slightly. “The sleeping prince awakens.”

She walked into the room, and he saw that she had a cup in her hand. Without explaining, she held it out for him to take. It smelled like tea, something fruity and somehow still a little bitter. The look on Morgause’s face said she wasn’t leaving until he drank it, so Arthur took a breath and gulped it down. The bitterness was mildly unpleasant, but the warmth that spread through him was immediate and invigorating. He smiled in the wake of it, unable to help himself. It made him feel so good.

“So it’s true,” Morgause said, voice calm and even. “You know about magic and you’re okay with it.”

“Morgana told you what happened?” Arthur asked, handing back the cup.

She nodded. “Merlin too. What you did was very brave, braver than I gave you credit for.” She slowly put a hand on his shoulder in the tenderest gesture she’d ever shown him. “You helped save Mordred and, in the process, you saved Morgana. I can’t thank you enough, but I hope this will do.” She moved to offer her hand. “I hope we can be allies from here on out, instead of the enemies I always thought we were.”

He took her hand without thinking and she squeezed his fingers briefly before letting go. Arthur had always wished Morgause didn’t hate him, so forming this kind of peace treaty with her only made sense.

“She’s my sister too,” he pointed out. “I’ll always look out for her.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She motioned toward the door and gave a small smile. “The others have been worried about you. You should go relieve their fears.”

Arthur nodded and stood up. He checked his hair in the mirror by the door and earned an almost amused smile from Morgause, which was so wildly different from her normal expression that it actually made Arthur nervous. After he made sure he didn’t look terrible, he followed her out into the living room.

Just like the last time he entered a room of conversation, all murmurings ceased. Merlin was hunched on the couch with Morgana beside him, one hand on his back. Vivienne was perched elegantly on the nearby chair, but her focus had been entirely on the two young sorcerers. When Arthur stepped into the room, however, all eyes turned to him like he was a magnet.

Without a word, Merlin stood and crossed the room. His arms felt good wrapped around Arthur, and the blonde would have been happy to hold onto him for an hour, except they had an audience. He cleared his throat gently and pulled away.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

Merlin was not as nervous about the audience. His hands ran over Arthur’s sides, even the one that hadn’t been injured, as if he’d find a new wound. “We healed you, but you’ve been asleep for two days.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that it took Arthur a moment to comprehend the gravity of those words. “Two… days? But what about my final?” His first final would have passed by now if he’d been down for two full days. He couldn’t make that up, and no one would believe that he’d been healing from a severe stab wound. He didn’t even have a scar.

Merlin’s cheeks flushed and he gave a weak shrug. “You passed?”

“Passed? Merlin, how can I pass a test I didn’t take?”

Morgana laughed quietly from the couch and he glared at her for an explanation. “Merlin did that thing he’s good at and bent magic. Not only did he convince the professor that he was you, but he cheated to get you a stellar 99% passing grade.”

Still embarrassed, Merlin said, “Well it would have been too suspicious to get a perfect score.” He looked into Arthur’s eyes, a little nervous. “Are you mad?”

Arthur sighed. “Normally, yes. I might be. I want to pass my classes on my own merit, obviously. But this does beat retaking the whole course just because I was nearly murdered.”

At the mention of his wound, Merlin hugged him again. Morgause rolled her eyes and left for the kitchen, but Vivienne looked fondly at the pair.

The woman gave them a moment before she spoke to Arthur. “Your father is at home. I told him you were spending a few nights here to catch up with Morgana and study. He still blames me for stealing Morgana away from him, but he gave his approval in the end. Mr. Monmouth appears to be putting in for retirement at last and plans to move to the coast very soon.”

“But I don’t understand.” Arthur paused when Vivienne motioned for him to sit. Morgana scooted over to make room for both men to join her on the couch. “They’re not coming after you anymore?”

“Remember my plan to give your father amnesia?” Morgana asked and he nodded. “Well after you were injured, Merlin cast the spell. Uther doesn’t care about magic anymore. Anything related to it is either erased or hazy. Monmouth too.” She shrugged like it was the most predictable explanation in the world.

Merlin slid his hand into Arthur’s and held firm. Arthur took a deep breath slowly through his nose, trying not to be obvious how electrifying that still felt. Merlin tilted his head. “I know you were against it, but I couldn’t think of another way to get him to stop that didn’t hurt him. And he had to be stopped, Arthur. He hurt _you_.”

Arthur nodded. He understood. He did. He curled his fingers down around Merlin’s and nodded again. How much did his father know, then? How different would he be? His father had always been distant and raised children with tough love, but his hatred of magic had always been around and dictated so many of his decisions. Would he even be the same man?

“You did the right thing, Merlin,” he assured. Their plan had failed spectacularly. Merlin did the kindest thing he could do. Arthur turned his head to look into Merlin’s brilliant blue eyes. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Not just from the sword wound. Not just in that basement. If his father truly didn’t care about magic anymore, then Arthur didn’t have to stay in that house, keeping a tense watch over his father’s obsession. Arthur could leave. He could have a life of his own.

Merlin’s lips tugged up into a bittersweet little smile, like he understood the conflicted emotion rolling around in Arthur from his revelation.

“I helped too,” Morgana pointed out. “But please, keep staring into Merlin’s eyes like he hung the stars.”

Merlin laughed. Vivienne covered her mouth to hold in her own laugh. There, in his seat on the couch in the Lefay house, Arthur just grinned. It had been such a long time since he felt like he was allowed to love this feeling – the feeling of coming home.

\--- --- ---

The Pendragon household was, annoyingly, the same as it always had been. Uther still used a cleaning service to dust and tidy the house twice a week. He still relied on someone else to make dinner. They still ate at different times or in different areas of the house. They talked a little more than normal, but the topics weren’t more interesting. Their conversations were still about school and the centennial, but without the added questioning about sorcerers among the students. His father still didn’t know if he’d even make it to the gala.

Everything was the same. Arthur got a sour feeling in his gut every time he thought of it. With or without magic, his father was still the same. He would have made the same mistakes in raising Arthur. Arthur just had to come to terms with that.

The only thing different was his father’s study. It had been emptied and turned into a normal, boring office space. Arthur didn’t ask where all the relics and magical objects had gone. He just trusted his friends that they were doing whatever was best with the objects.

The only thing left was the red stone bracelet that Arthur had stashed in the center console of his car. Merlin must have known it was there, but he never asked for it. Arthur took it as a sign of trust.

On the night of the centennial opening gala, Arthur got dressed in his room. He ran his hands over his shirt a hundred times, trying to remove wrinkles that weren’t there. He styled his hair twice, nervous that a strand would fall out of place while he was doing his rounds and being interviewed by the paper or doing any other number of council business. Or when he kissed Merlin.

Before he left his room, he moved to close his window curtain and smiled across the yard at Merlin’s window. The blinds were already down, but a note was taped in the window.

“See You At The Gala”

Arthur shut his curtain and headed downstairs. His father caught him in the entryway as he was double checking he had everything he needed to walk out the door.

“You’re sure you don’t want to go together? Save one of us from driving?” Uther asked, adjusting the cuffs on his suit.

“I’m sure, Father. I’ll be out later than you, and I don’t want you to have to wait for me.” Okay, he had his keys and his wallet and his ticket. They’d give him his nametag for being on the council when he arrived. That should be everything.

“Oh,” his father said in possibly the most suggestive way he could. Arthur rolled his eyes. “Well then. Do I need to have a conversation with you about contraception?”

Arthur’s mouth dropped open. “Father!” he exclaimed, aghast. “I’m twenty-four! Please, I don’t need some kind of sex talk.”

Uther shook his head, but he was giving a little smile too. “Alright, alright.” He finally fixed his cuff and motioned for Arthur to continue. “Then I will see you at the gala. Have a safe but fun evening, Arthur.”

Arthur left before his father could say anything else terrifyingly normal and embarrassing. He slid into his car, checked on the bracelet, and then drove to campus. The gala was set up in the indoor stadium, and Arthur could hear it before he ever got inside. The school’s radio program was manning the music until the live performance of Renegade Druid, and the top forty songs of the year were pumping through the speakers like blood through the veins of the school.

As soon as he stepped inside, Arthur spotted Gwen and Lancelot talking and hurried over to thank them for all their hard work.

“This is just the beginning,” Lancelot said with a beaming smile. He took up Gwen’s hand and she blushed. “There’s so much more to come.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “The centennial celebration will last for several weeks. We still have a lot to do.”

Arthur glanced between them and felt like he had been forgotten. That was his cue to bow out, so he wished them both a happy evening and left to find faculty members to insure everything was going to plan. Twenty minutes later, the gala had officially begun, but Arthur was still making his rounds. Catering was fully set up with plenty of servers and staff to keep the food going all night. The radio DJ was ready and prepped for Renegade Druid to start in half an hour and had playlists running for all the interim times around their set. The decorations were all in place and none seemed to be falling or fraying.

He was caught by the local news station just after the start of the gala and found himself out in the hall, where the music was less overpowering, to answer questions about the gala and the celebrations to follow. He did his best to answer honestly but frugally, and still, somehow, the interview lasted nearly twenty minutes.

When the reporter finally thanked him for his time and released him, Arthur sighed and started wondering how he was going to make it through another three hours of this gala. That was when Merlin slid up beside him and took his hand. Arthur tried to relax into the touch, but his shoulders refused to droop. He smiled at Merlin, but it felt tight on his face.

“It’s okay,” Merlin said. “This is a big night for you. You’re going to be stressed the entire time, but if you need a breather, I can pull you away.”

Arthur laughed. “I don’t think anyone will leave me alone until the band starts playing.”

“Lucky you. That’s in ten minutes,” Merlin pointed out.

Oh. Arthur’s eyebrows shot up and he quickly started walking through the hallways until he found the entrance to the dressing room they’d set up for the band. Merlin came too, because Arthur never let go of his hand, not until he was standing in front of the door. With a steadying breath, Arthur knocked and was permitted inside.

He’d met the band the day before, but they held a different energy just before a show. They greeted him energetically and with no small amount of nerves. Everything was perfect so far, they said, and thanked him for the opportunity to play for their school.

Mordred was just finishing his makeup when the five-minute warning was announced. Arthur stepped up beside him and glanced at the young man’s feet.

“How’s your ankle?” he asked.

“Perfect,” Mordred answered with a little shrug. “Morgana and her mother made it like it never happened. Physically, at least.”

“I don’t think I ever properly apologized,” Arthur began, but Mordred cut him off.

“We can’t choose who our parents are, Arthur,” he said, and Arthur recalled that Mordred was an orphan. “I don’t… I think it’s me who never really thanked you properly. You put a lot on the line to help get me out. I was… pretty shaken up. But I’ll be okay. Thanks to you. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

All Arthur could do was nod and let out a short, “Okay.” Then the stage manager was there and urging the band out of the room. It was time to perform.

Out in front of the stage, Merlin pulled Arthur into the crowd under the guise of hiding from his responsibilities by blending in with the hundreds of other faces. The prerecorded music faded out. The crowd roared with excitement. Arthur felt his heart speed up with anticipation even though he knew what was coming.

Then Renegade Druid took the stage with gusto and excitement, and the crowd lost their minds. The lead singer gave a short speech about how honored the band was to perform where most of them had gone to school. Mordred started drumming before the speech was even done. The electric guitar joined in just after that, and then the whole band started up on their opening number. A fluid continuation from speech to singing.

Arthur recognized the melody of “Long Live” as they played and he smiled. He had always liked the song, but it felt somehow more important after all that had happened.

_“I said remember this moment, In the back of my mind, The time we stood with our shaking hands, The crowds in stands went wild.”_ Arthur knew the lyrics better than his father ever would have approved of.

Merlin leaned into him and drew his attention from the stage. “You look like you want to dance. So dance.” And he was right, of course. Arthur wanted to bounce with the rest of the crowd and sing the words. He wanted to let the energy of the music move him, wanted to pull Merlin close to him, but…

“It’s still a little weird,” Arthur admitted, nearly shouting to get over the music. “I’m not used to this!”

“I told you – you don’t have to pretend anymore!” Merlin smiled encouragingly at him and then urged him into a bounce that matched the music. Arthur laughed out loud, voice sucked up by the cheers and the singing around him, but he let himself bob and be moved by Merlin’s hands.

_“Long live the walls we crashed through! All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you! I was screaming, "long live all the magic we made" And bring on all the pretenders! One day, we will be remembered!”_

The energy carried Arthur through his exhaustion, through his doubts, and he wished the song would never end. He wanted to be this Arthur, the one who danced with Merlin and sang out at the top of his lungs, forever. And it suddenly occurred to him that he could be that. He was allowed that now.

“Merlin!” he shouted and grabbed the dark haired man by the shoulders to stop his own bouncing.

He leaned in and pressed their lips together without hesitation. The world was still full of terrible people, but somehow Arthur wasn’t worried about them. He had Merlin at his side, and he was allowed to kiss him like this. He didn’t have to hide anymore.

Merlin’s hands ran up into his carefully styled hair, and Arthur didn’t care at all. They kissed and they kissed, and Arthur bent Merlin back with the force of them. His hands slid up Merlin’s back and held him close, and Merlin pulled on Arthur’s neck and forearm like he wanted to pull Arthur into his own body. And Arthur was allowed to love it. God, he never wanted to go back to how it used to be. Never again.

_“I had the time of my life with you! Singing long live all the mountains we moved! I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you! And long, long live the look on your face! Bring on all the pretenders! One day, we will be remembered!”_

He’d cleared the cobwebs off his heart, and he felt it bursting within his chest. When the gala was over, he was going to ask Merlin to be his boyfriend officially, and then he’d ask if they could get a place together after they graduated. He’d spent ten years away from Merlin, and he didn’t want to waste another day. When Merlin’s lips connected with his again, Arthur swore he would have blown out the power for an entire city block if he was magic.

\--- --- ---

The song referenced is “Long Live” by Taylor Swift. Check out [this pitch shifted ‘male’ version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kozPqOuqy44) on youtube!

**Author's Note:**

> The song referenced is “Long Live” by Taylor Swift. Check out this pitch shifted ‘male’ version on youtube!


End file.
